


handsome | frerard

by TealrootsG



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TealrootsG/pseuds/TealrootsG
Summary: Coffee addicted Gerard Way is the new art teacher at Belleville High, and Frank is sort of the epitome of awkwardness on his last year of high school.[sort of a rewrite of BTLFM, but it's different in many ways]
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

_\- happy thoughts -  
  
_ “No drinkin’ tonight, Urie.” Frank stated firmly, shooting Brendon a small glare as they took a seat in the small cafe that was attached to the arcade, Action Cat.  
  
The tiled floors were a salmon pink, which merged with the navy blue carpet that lead to the slot machines, paired with pale grey chairs and metal tables that were nailed to the floor. The surfaces were suspiciously sticky and the cafe was a little run-down, but it was good enough for a lame Sunday night belonging to three dorky teenagers.  
  
The arcade was always _way_ too busy for Frank’s liking, infested with over-excitable children, tired parents, and a few loud groups of teenagers, however he loved the flashing lights, infinite vivid colours and the overall atmosphere of the arcade. Plus, this was their last night of freedom before Monday morning arrived and they were thrown unwillingly in to hell -also known as Belleville High. Better known as prison.  
  
“But I wanted to test out my new fake ID.” Brendon pouted, reluctantly slipping the card in to his back pocket as he dropped down opposite Frank, who set their non-alcoholic cokes and plates of over-salted chips on the table.  
  
“We gotta get up early, asshat, and it’d be a lot harder to do if you were hungover.” He raised his eyebrows, poking at his food with a plastic fork. “You _really_ wanna risk it?”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Brendon sighed, “No.” Honestly, he wanted to get wasted as an excuse _not_ to show up for lessons. “What about you, Ry?” He waved Ryan over from the vending machine, then patted the empty space next to him.  
  
“What about me what?” Ryan mumbled through a mouthful of food, ignoring the actual seats and parking his ass on Brendon’s lap. Smiling widely, he quickly pecked Brendon on the cheek, making him smile too, but grimace somewhat as Ryan’s lips were wet with grease from his chips.  
  
Despite being bitter about not having a boyfriend of his own, Frank admired Brendon and Ryan’s relationship. They’d been going strong all summer, barely staying apart for longer than a few days. Ryan had made Brendon want to commit to a relationship rather than jumping from one person to another. Brendon had brought Ryan out of his shell. They were good influences on each other.

“Would you back me up on testin’ out my new ID?”  
  
“Depends.” He furrowed his brows, sharing a sceptical look with Frank. “Lemme see what it looks like.”  
  
“How much it cost?” Frank added, growing more doubtful about whether it appeared legit. “Was it like proper cheap? ‘Cause if it was they probably scammed ya.”

“It wasn't _too_ cheap.” Brendon pressed his lips in to a thin line, then handed Ryan the card.  
  
As soon as Ryan skimmed over it, he snorted, almost choking on his food. “Sorry to break it to you dude, but. . . It says you’re fuckin’ thirty years old. You can’t pass for thirty, you’ve still got a baby face -like Iero over there.”  
  
“Hey-” Frank didn't know whether to smile or frown.  
  
“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” Brendon beamed, dismissing the fact he’d gotten a shitty ID.  
  
“Take it how you want, but it means it won't work.” Ryan giggled, earning a playful scowl in return as Brendon snatched the card back, examining it himself.  
  
“They saw you comin’ from a mile away.” Frank chuckled, wiping his greasy fingers on his baggy blue jeans. “’M sorry, Bren, it was a waste of money.”  
  
“Aww, c’mon.” Brendon frowned slightly. “Happy thoughts, guys. Think positive! There’s a chance-”  
  
“Rethink the idea.”  
  
“Maybe when you’re _actually_ thirty, it could work.” Ryan nicked a few chips off of Brendon’s plate, having finished his own small portion already.  
  
“Hmph.” He pressed his lips in to a thin line, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s torso to stop him from falling off his lap as he nervously bounced his knee up and down. “This blows. No alcohol, _and_ we have school tomorrow.”  
  
Resting his head on Brendon’s shoulder, he murmured softly, “It’ll be fine, baby.”  
  
From across the table, Frank sighed deeply before smiling with a fake cheeriness, gesturing vaguely at the empty space beside him. “Oh, look, I have _no one_.”  
  
“C’mere, too.” Ryan held an arm out for Frank, who shuffled over so he could join in on their hug. “Tomorrow will be okay, I know it.”  
  
“Yeah.” He chewed his cheek anxiously, leaning on Brendon. “Maybe.”  
  
The reason Frank despised school so much was that he constantly seemed to have a target on his back, or an arrow above his head like a crappy game character, resulting in unfair slaps to the back of the head while walking between lessons, and unwanted comments from stuck-up narcissists with _literally_ nothing better to do.  
  
“Happy thoughts.” Brendon offered a comforting smile, knowing about how bad Frank had it sometimes.  
  
“And!” Ryan tried to lighten the mood again. “Doesn't mean we can't play Ms Pacman and beat our high scores.”  
  
Instantly, Frank straightened up, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll kick your guys’ asses.”  
  
Narrowing his eyes, Brendon said slowly, “Sure, Iero. Keep dreamin’.”

_[written 1st August 2020]_


	2. Chapter 2

_\- Mr Way -_  
  
Oh how Frank envied the student at the back of the class because they were getting their snooze on, successfully absent for their god awful introduction to advanced higher English. It wasn't like Frank hadn't gotten an A last year, in fact English was his best subject, however regardless his triumph, he found it remarkably tedious, and wished he was currently lying in bed playing mindless games on his laptop, nibbling on yesterday’s cold pizza.  
  
What felt like hours later, the bell rang for lunch, and in unison, the entire class shoved everything haphazardly in to their bags, and raced out of the doors, heading for the canteen. Being the odd one out, Frank dragged his body out of the door, instead wandering through the crowded halls towards the art rooms.  
  
Unlike the rest of the school, Brendon, Ryan and Frank spent their breaks in the art department. Thanks to Frank’s bullying becoming inherently severe last year, he’d been too scared to join the other students for lunch in fear of his food being stolen, binned, or transformed in to the world’s worst hat -as a particular student called Harrison had dumped Frank’s pasta on his head months prior. Frank was forced to reside in the art rooms. Or course, Brendon and Ryan had accompanied him in a heartbeat, not ready to leave their friend to suffer alone.  
  
Really, it was just their way of hiding from everyone else, though they’d rather be cowards than brave idiots and get taunted during lunch anyway.  
  
Usually, the three were alone in the art department, however, today that was to change as someone they’d never seen before waltzed in. Evidently, they somehow held the power to make Frank’s poor little affection-starved heart skip a beat as he practically gaped open-mouthed, earning a slap on the arm from Brendon, who was appalled at Frank’s inability to discreetly stare rather than be totally fucking _obvious_ about it.  
  
The young man that had entered was clutching an overflowing folder to his chest, using a free hand to card his fingers through his stark black hair, brushing it out of his pale face. Upon closer inspection -not that he was about to memorise details- Frank noticed the roots were dyed teal, complimenting the pale pink tinting his cheeks, which he'd probably received from the harsh winds outside.  
  
During his stare-fest, he’d completely forgotten that the stranger also possessed eyes, lovely toffee-coloured eyes that even _looked_ sweet, and caught him staring, causing a shy smile to grace his chapped lips. “Hey.”  
  
“Uhm, hey.” Frank managed, a blush instantly blooming on his cheeks. Though he darted his gaze elsewhere, it couldn't help but drift back over to the stranger once he’d turned around to shrug his dark grey denim jacket off, draping it over the back of a chair.  
  
“ _Dude_!” Brendon shouted in a whisper, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. “Get a grip, would ya?”  
  
Reluctantly tearing his gaze away, Frank scowled, “What?” They all knew he had a tendency to act pathetic around guys he found cute, or honestly just guys in general.  
  
“You’re bein’ creepy.” Ryan stated in a low voice, picking apart his peanut butter and jam sandwich.  
  
“Nuh-uh.” Shaking his head, he actually had to make an effort not to return his curious eyes to the stranger. It was like a magnetic field or some shit.  
  
Although, apparently he didn’t have to because the man spoke up once he’d organised all of his stuff on the teacher’s desk, desperately attempting to maintain a mountain of paperwork. “Excuse me?”  
  
“See, he’s about to tell ya you were creepin’ him out.” Brendon snickered, nudging him in the ribs, though he hadn't been talking quietly enough.  
  
“He wasn't creepin’ me out.” The man murmured with a half shrug, making Frank spontaneously combust, face going bright fucking red like he’d just been doused in strawberry dye.  
  
“I-I-” Frank’s brain inevitably malfunctioned.  
  
“It’s okay.” The stranger waved a hand dismissively, offering a small-toothed smile, also causing Frank’s mind to glitch. Then he folded his arms across his chest as he weaved through the maze of desks to reach theirs. “I’m Mr Way, I’m the new art teacher.”  
  
“It’s a pleasure.” Brendon held his hand out for him to shake, acting like he hadn't just piled on to his best friend’s embarrassment, which he was about to shamelessly do again. “Sorry about Iero, he’s just. . . Well-”  
  
Before Brendon could utter another godforsaken word, Frank cleared his throat loudly.  
  
An awkwardness hung in the air, though they were all adamant to diminish it.  
  
Mr Way blessed Frank’s ears with the sound of his adorably nasally voice, “Are you guys in this class next? It’d be nice to already know some faces.”  
  
“As a matter of fact.” Brendon grinned. It was a shit-eating grin that gave Frank the urge to kick him. Ryan even questioned his intentions sometimes. “Iero is.”  
  
“Oh.” Mr Way smiled brightly, flicking his sparkling hazel eyes to Frank, who tried not to burst in to flames. “That’s cool. Is your name Iero, or is that your last name?”  
  
Thankfully, Mr Way didn't butcher the pronunciation, though he did roll his tongue a little on the ‘r’, only pushing his attractiveness higher up on the hotness scale -once, Brendon had attempted to physically draw a hot/average scale on paper, which Ryan had scolded him for in case it was insensitive.  
  
“It’s, uhm, my last name.” Frank confirmed, combing his fingers through his shaggy brown fringe in an attempt to make it seem more presentable, like he hadn't tumbled out of bed half an hour before school. It’d been quite an achievement to gulp coffee while simultaneously gathering books needed for that day and blindly chucking them in a bag, while his mother applauded his appalling time-keeping skills.  
  
“And. . . Your first name?” Mr Way raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, that crooked smile still present.  
  
“Frank.” He nodded slowly, regretting ever stepping foot inside the classroom as he internally face-palmed, wishing he could erase all embarrassment.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Frank.” He held out his hand, which Frank shook after he’d wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Not that he was pathetic or anything, but he deflated a little when Mr Way pulled his hand away, breaking their physical contact.  
  
“I’m Ryan. Ryan Ross.” Ryan interjected, admittedly starting to feel a tad left out. They also shook hands.  
  
“Glad to meet all of you.” Mr Way said politely, struggling to mask a whirlwind of anxieties. “Alright, now, can I ask a serious question?”  
  
“Shoot.” Brendon tore open a packet of prawn cocktail crisps, munching on them fairly loudly as he kicked his feet up on the desk.  
  
“Do I look okay?” He swallowed the lump in his throat, glancing down at his own attire, which consisted of a white buttoned shirt, a black waistcoat that hugged his slender frame nicely, scuffed-up ankle boots, skinny jeans, and a black and white striped tie. “I’ve never taught before, so I didn't _really_ know what to wear. Do I look teacher-y?”  
  
“You look fine to me.” Brendon answered, shooting a side glance at Frank, silently telling him, _no_ , he wasn't allowed to comment on his appearance in case he confessed his new-found love and adoration.  
  
“Really?” Mr Way bit his lip, adjusting his tie. “Not too formal, or too casual?”  
  
“ _Dude_ , stop stressing.” Ryan reached up to adjust his tie for him, and for a split second, Frank wished he and Ryan could trade places. “You look _fine_.”  
  
Letting out a deep breath, he muttered a small, “Thank you.”  
  
Far too soon, the sodden bell rang, signalling for Ryan and Brendon to pack up their shit and scram before a herd of artists flooded through the doors. Truthfully, Frank hoped they could have stayed as he probably needed someone to oversee his actions in case he screwed up -which he expected to do at some point. His fuck-ups were always inevitable.  
  
“Fuck.” Mr Way gulped audibly, biting his lip again.  
  
Frank didn't think such a swear word ever leave Mr Way’s lips. He seemed too shy and innocent, though Frank couldn't tell just _how_ innocent, they’d only met barely ten minutes ago. Admittedly, he wouldn't have minded discussing the matter, or anything really, over god awful coffee from the staff room.  
  
“Remember,” Ryan placed his hands on Mr Way’s shoulders, smiling reassuringly, “You’ll do great.”  
  
“You’ll ace this.” Brendon clapped him on the back as he passed him on the way to the doors, making Mr Way laugh quietly.  
  
“Thank you, guys.” He’d needed that and appreciated it immensely. Once he’d watched Brendon drag Ryan out of the art rooms, not before he’d shot him some _very cool_ finger guns, Mr Way turned to Frank, who simply blinked. “So, Frank?”  
  
“Yeah?” He fiddled with the zip on his Misfits hoodie.  
  
“Care to help me hand out the information booklets for the assignment this year?”  
  
Regaining control of his actions, coming to terms with how pretty, _yes_ , fucking _pretty_ , he found Mr Way, he nodded, “‘Course, sir.”  
  
-  
  
Surprisingly, Brendon and Ryan’s words of reassurance had done wonders to Mr Way’s confidence. Sure, he tripped over a few words, but he managed to get through the whole two hours without making _too_ much of a fool of himself. Besides, Frank didn't think it would’ve mattered if he’d have embarrassed himself because he was 98% positive that 100% of the students were discussing their thoughts on where he stood on the attractiveness scale. Without a doubt, he was at the top of it -or beyond it.  
  
Beauty was subjective, of course, however Frank had no problem assuming that everyone could appreciate how handsome he was. Even though his skin wasn't flawless, had a few blemishes, some freckles, and one of his eyes closed a little more than the other, he was stunning in Frank’s opinion.  
  
Maybe Frank was just tragic, somewhat incredibly hopeless, and becoming a little obsessed with Mr Way, but he couldn't have cared less.  
  
By the time the end of the school day rolled around, Frank couldn't believe he had to leave, unless he conjured up an excuse to stay. Although apparently, he didn't have to because Mr Way did that for him.  
  
“Frank?” He called over everyone’s chatter, standing on his tip toes to see over the heads of some rather tall students to find him only just starting to pack his pencils away.  
  
“Yeah?” He replied, zipping up his bag, suddenly alert and listening.  
  
“Can you stay behind for a moment?”  
  
Bewildered, Frank almost believed there was some sort of God pitying him. “Sure, what’s up?”  
  
“I’ve been told you didn’t complete your art assignment last year, is that right?” He asked, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans, wild hair falling over his eyes. Frank itched to brush it back.  
  
Scratching the back of his neck, Frank nodded.  
  
For the last nine weeks of school last year, he’d had pertussis, meaning he’d missed numerous lessons, and failed to complete the piece of majorly important artwork that contributed to 60% of his grade. Sadly, they’d had to fail him, regardless that it wasn't his fault and had worked his ass off trying to get a decent grade.  
  
“Well, I’ve also been told that you can do last year’s work as well as this year’s to make up for it. Is that okay? I know it’s a lot but I’ll be here to help you, if-if you need.”  
  
Not too fond of the idea of extra work, Frank frowned, until he realised it was a package deal and he’d get to spend more time with Mr Way. So, of fucking course he agreed. “Yeah, that’s fine.”  
  
“Wonderful.”  
  
“What is?” Brendon strolled through the doors, arms linked with Ryan, who asked a different question, excited to hear the answer, “Hey! How was your first day?”  
  
Startled by their sudden appearance, Mr Way’s lips slowly stretched in to a smile. “Hey, guys.”  
  
Frank loathed himself for not getting to ask Ryan’s question first.  
  
“Tell us about it, c’mon, I wanna know.” Ryan beamed, pulling up a chair to rest his feet on as he perched himself on the edge of a desk. Brendon hopped up next to him, gesturing for Mr Way to take the table opposite, which he did. By no means had Frank meant to sit right next to Mr Way, shoulders touching, but that’s what he did, earning raised eyebrows from Brendon.  
  
Wrinkling his nose, Mr Way glanced down at his scuffed shoes in thought. “It was okay, I don't think I made _too_ bad of a first impression.”  
  
“You were pretty good, I think.” Frank smiled, tilting his head to the side. “Everyone liked you for sure.” If they didn't, they were mad.  
  
“You think so?” Mr Way could barely contain his happiness. He really hadn't expected anyone to be so kind, or even help him. Truthfully, he’d supposed he would have had to soldier on alone, only receiving brief tips from fellow teachers. “You’re all so sweet.”  
  
“Don’t mention it.” Ryan waved a hand dismissively. “We’re here to help. I’ll even point out the students to be wary of.”  
  
“Yeah,” Brendon sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. “Some people can be right dickheads.”  
  
Mr Way furrowed his brows. “Am I supposed to scold you for using that sort of language, or would I be a bad teacher for joining in?”  
  
“Hmm.” Frank swung his legs back and forth. “We won't tell if you join in.”  
  
He let out a sigh of relief. “Alright, ‘cause. . . Really, I was so fuckin’ nervous this morning I couldn't eat breakfast.”  
  
“Sir!” Frank gasped dramatically, putting a hand to his chest. “You gotta eat breakfast. Haven't you been told it’s the most important meal of the day?”  
  
“Hey!” Mr Way shoved Frank’s shoulder playfully with his, causing Frank’s mind to momentarily freak out at how casual they were already behaving. Truthfully, the three teenagers were all chuffed they could make Mr Way feel comfortable and welcomed, as they'd tried to do with previous teachers as well. Though possibly not to this extent. “If you’d have had my nerves comin’ here, you woulda drank seven cups of coffee instead too.”  
  
“Ah, but I beat you there.” He smirked. “I had _eight_ cups of coffee this morning.”  
  
“No way.” His eyes widened slightly. “How’re ya not bouncing off the walls?”  
  
“Believe me.” Brendon cut in, sending a knowing look at Frank. “He is on the inside.”  
  
Before Mr Way could question what exactly that meant, Ryan piped up, “You lookin’ forward to tomorrow? I bet you’ll have this whole teacher scene nailed soon.”  
  
“I’m not sure you’re right there.” Chewing his cheek, Mr Way hummed thoughtfully. “I guess today was okay, but who knows what tomorrow’s gonna be like?”  
  
“Well, if there’s anything we can do, just let us know.”  
  
“Thank you.” He bit his lip, “You guys might already be my favourite students and you’re not even in my class.”  
  
Beside him, Frank gasped dramatically again, “ _Sir_! How could you?”  
  
Mr Way giggled, and Frank decided right then and there that that was his new favourite sound and he wanted it as his phone ringtone -okay, _maybe_ he was crossing the line in to creepy. “Don’t worry, Frankie, you’re my very favourite student.”  
  
“Aww.” Frank couldn't help but smile, shockingly excellent at containing the butterflies he received in his stomach at the nickname. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth an actual butterfly would flutter out.  
  
 _[Written 2nd August 2020]_


	3. Chapter 3

_\- Mr **Gerard** Way -_  
  
Despite the fact Frank despised school, and wanted to lie in bed forever because, _yes_ , he was that lazy and committed to sleep, he found himself actually going in to school a whole fucking hour earlier than he usually did. It was around eight o'clock in the morning when he spammed the group chat -consisting of himself, Brendon and Ryan- with annoying messages, which were literally just “ _wake up, motherfuckers_ ” repeated about a hundred times. The way he saw it was that if he was up early and in school, they should be too so that they could all suffer together.  
  
It was like the start of a lame zombie apocalypse film as the building was totally deserted, and Frank wasn't sure if anyone was in or if they’d just conveniently left the doors unlocked. No one was around, so he took the opportunity to snatch one of the chocolate muffins from the canteen. _Technically_ , it wasn't stealing because he left some money on the counter. Plus, he’d had coffee for breakfast again, so he was starving.  
  
Having nothing to do, Frank supposed he might as well get a head start on his two art projects, and moseyed on upstairs to the art rooms. Because the rest of the school seemed vacant, he was expecting the art department to be too, causing him to jump out of his skin when he saw Mr Way stood by his desk, flicking through some files. He may have choked a little on his chocolate muffin.  
  
For a few weeks now, Mr Way had been working at Belleville High. To say the least, Frank was impressed with his patience, ability to deal with stuck-up twats, and talent. Even though he was a qualified _art_ teacher, he was still surprised after finding out Mr Way could actually _draw_.  
  
“Oh, hey, Frankie.” Mr Way smiled as he looked up upon hearing Frank’s strangled coughs. “You okay?”  
  
Clearing his throat, Frank nodded, feeling his face heat up from embarrassment. A coughing fit because he’d choked on a fucking _muffin_ was not how he’d wanted to say hi. “Went-went down the wrong pipe.” He explained, stuffing the remnants of the muffin in his pocket in case he died next time he tried to eat it. A little over-dramatic, but _hypothetically_ , it _could_ happen.  
  
“I’m glad you’re here early, you need to work on investigation drawings for your second project.” Mr Way set the files on the desk before fetching Frank’s folder from one of the cupboards.  
  
Letting out a deep sigh, he dumped his bag on the nearest table, then wandered over to meet him. “Ugh, I know.” He’d been procrastinating on purpose, seeing how far he could push it until Mr Way talked to him about it. Two weeks was the answer. “I’m just not good at pencil drawings, or, you know. . . Drawing in general.”  
  
“Aw, don't say that.” Mr Way smiled as he fanned Frank’s unfinished art pieces out on the table. “You’re not bad at drawing, you just need to focus. ’M sure you could make somethin’ awesome.”  
  
That put a grin on Frank’s lips. “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure this is as far as my skills go.”  
  
Carding his fingers through his hair, he shook his head. “I don’t.”  
  
Just as Frank had a speech full of sass and self depreciation ready, his phone vibrated in his pocket, earning a smug expression from Mr Way.  
  
“I don't think you’re allowed phones in school, so, really, I should confiscate that, Iero.” Shrugging half-heartedly, he folded his arms across his chest. “But seeing as it’s you, I suppose I could pretend it doesn't exist.”  
  
“Yeah, and I’ll pretend I didn't see your phone in your back pocket either.” He chuckled quietly, watching as Mr Way checked his back pocket where indeed was his phone. Honestly, Frank had just guessed it’d be there because he always kept it in his back pocket, and was glad he was right otherwise his retort would have royally backfired.  
  
“Touché.”  
  
The notification had been from their group chat, where Brendon announced, “ _I’m ready, I just gotta kidnap Ryan ;) See you there._ ” Frank snorted. He didn't doubt Brendon wouldn't _literally_ climb through Ryan’s window and attempt to kidnap him, despite his bedroom being on a second floor. Though he guessed Ryan probably wouldn't complain, and would play along.  
  
They arrived at school half an hour later, finding Frank _finally_ making progress on some drawings, while Mr Way strenuously marked a stack of papers beside him, a highly concentrated expression on his face, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. They were listening to music through Frank’s earphones as they shared similar music tastes. Currently, Frank was introducing Mr Way to a band called The Smiths, and soon hoped to get him obsessed.  
  
Brendon and Ryan sat opposite them, proceeding to catch up on Maths homework that was due in only a few hours -they’d had a chance to complete it last night, though they'd decided a make-out session and a film would be more fun. It was quite silent, the only sounds being pencils scribbling frantically along paper, and the irritating noises of other teenagers’ cringe-worthy banter and insults that were stupidly laughable -a few made them snicker anyway.  
  
Far too soon the bell rang, causing everyone to panic because they’d lost track of time and had around twenty seconds to get to class before they were marked as late and got ridiculed by their teachers. In the anxiety-induced haze, Frank forgot about his phone on the desk and bolted out of the door, unable to hear Mr Way calling his name to get his attention.  
  
-  
  
Quite literally, the only thing worse than death was having to suffer through an hour of physical education. A tad bit of an exaggeration, but that's how Frank described it to anyone who would listen to his complaints. In his defence, because he was kind of lanky and not typically butch, whereas all the other boys appeared as if they could squash him during a game of football, he argued that they might actually _kill_ him. But all that got him was a heavy sigh and a scold from the teacher.  
  
Brendon and Ryan had joined him at the corner of the pitch, point blank refusing to participate, however the ball did fly their way, and they’d almost gotten trampled on. Luckily, they’d avoided it by racing to the other corner, where they’d hidden behind a very unimpressed teacher for the remainder of the lesson.  
  
By the time the end of the school day rolled around, they raced off the pitch -highly likely that was the most exercise they’d done in ages- and towards the changing rooms before anyone else got there.  
  
Frank was rushing the most, not exactly a fan of hanging around because last time he’d spent more than five minutes in the changing room, he’d had his bag stolen, possessions chucked around the room, and then he’d had various twats trying to tear his clothes off so they could run off and leave him stranded naked. Thankfully, they hadn't succeeded, but he wasn't going to find out if they would today.  
  
“ _C’mon_ , hurry up.” Frank groaned, dancing around on the spot as if that would speed up time.  
  
“One _minute_.” Brendon huffed, examining his slicked back hair in the mirror. “Perfection takes time.”  
  
“Bren, c’mon. Your hair is _fine_.” Ryan raised his eyebrows, linking his arm with Brendon’s to steadily drag him away.  
  
“I’m not finished-” he whined, trying to get one last peek in the mirror.  
  
“You are now.” Frank opened the door to the corridor for them both, then closed it behind them before leading the way up the side stairs. The second floor halls were mostly deserted, though they did pass a rowdy group of students, who were hollering incoherent god-knows-what as they charged past, eager to escape school.  
  
Seeing as Frank had work to complete, they were doing the complete opposite of staying in for at least another hour. Like they had done for the past couple of weeks, Brendon and Ryan were joining him, of course. Truthfully, they had noting better to do, and enjoyed each other’s company. Plus, it calmed Frank’s nerves when they were there because he still didn't trust that he wouldn't make a total fool of himself around Mr Way without supervision. So far though, he was fuck-up free.  
  
“Hey.” Mr Way greeted brightly, closing the book he'd been trying to read through once they burst through the door, admittedly startling him a little. “How’re you guys doin’?”  
  
“Tired as shit.” Frank sighed, sliding his bag off his shoulder, oh-so-gracefully throwing it on to the desk nearest Mr Way’s.  
  
“Language, Frankie.” Since the head of the art department had overheard one of their conversations, where they may have been swearing an awful lot, Mr Way had been told to enforce the ‘ _no swearing_ ’ school rule, despite all of them agreeing that it was bullshit.  
  
“Don’t care, sir.” He grinned, glancing over at Mr Way, who just rolled his eyes with a small smile.  
  
Peering through his wild hair at Brendon and Ryan, he asked, “How ‘bout you guys?”  
  
“Exact same.” They replied in unison, adding their bags and jackets to the pile Frank had started.  
  
“How ‘bout I get you some coffee, yeah? Wake you up?” Mr Way suggested, earning three eager nods in response, cheering them up bit after the torture that had taken the unfortunate form of physical education. “Just don't tell.”  
  
“Nah, we won't.” Frank put a finger to his lips.  
  
Heading for the staff room, he glanced back over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in a minute.”  
  
-  
  
Hell, Frank had no idea what magic Mr Way had pulled out of his ass, but the usually shitty coffee tasted fucking divine. It was boiling hot, burnt his tongue, though he didn't mind. He had his nose buried in the cup as he drank, as did Ryan and Brendon, who also seemed shocked at how good it was.  
  
“Sir, you’re a fuckin’ magician.” Frank murmured, voice muffled by the cup.  
  
Mr Way giggled quietly, wrapping his cold fingers around his own drink, the silver rings he wore making a clinking sound. “Why?”  
  
“It's so good.”  
  
“Well, slow down. You're drinking it, not making out with it.”  
  
If that was true, Frank would have preferred if it was Mr Way’s face he was holding instead of the cup, and he’d have a hand threaded through his thick black hair instead of gripping the cup handle. At the mere thought, a blush rose to his cheeks, and he only hid behind the cup even more, intent on drinking the coffee as he shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. For fucks sake, Mr Way was his art teacher, not someone to snog.  
  
Leaning back in the chair, kicking his feet upon the desk, Mr Way set his cup down, swapping it for a sketchbook and pencil. Before he began mindlessly doodling, he spoke up, “Hey, guys?”  
  
“Shoot.” Brendon replied, stirring his drink.  
  
“For future reference, please don't call me ‘sir’. It kinda makes me feel old.” _Actually_ , in different context, he wouldn't mind being called _sir_ , but in a school environment, he just felt ancient compared to everyone else.  
  
Nodding, Ryan shrugged. “Sure thing.”  
  
“So, what do we call ya instead? _Miss_?” Brendon raised his eyebrows, earning a deadpan glare.  
  
“ _No_.” Mr Way pointed his pencil at Brendon accusingly. “If y’do, I’ll give ya detention.”  
  
Reluctantly, Brendon held back a boatload of sarcastic remarks, most of which could have gotten him in to trouble, and settled for a playful scowl. He spread himself across two chairs, settling back to an almost sleeping position.  
  
“So, is it _Mr Way_ now?” Frank furrowed his brows, tapping the side of his cup absentmindedly to a random rhythm. “Or, do we finally get to know your first name?”  
  
“Yes!” Excitedly, Ryan slammed his hand down on the table a smidge harder than he meant to, causing them all to jump a little at his enthusiasm. “ _Finally_ , we get to know your first name? Is it somethin’ weird like _Hamish_?”  
  
“ _Hamish_?” Gerard seemed offended, lips parted in disbelief. “Do I _seriously_ look like a _Hamish_?”  
  
“Nah,” Frank waved a hand dismissively, holding back a grin. “That’s why it woulda been weird.”  
  
“Can we _guess_ your name?” Brendon interjected, and Ryan instantly took that as a cue to begin listing off suggestions. He came up with bizarre ones like Hector, Jeffree,Garrett, all of which were way far off. Soon, Frank joined in too, and Mr Way sat there dumbly with a puzzled look on his face as he watched them argue back and forth over something so mundane as his name.  
  
“Guys?” He tried, though they carried on, creating a list as long as his arm. “Guys, c’mon.” To successfully regain their attention, he clapped loudly, raising his eyebrows, vaguely amused. They all turned to face him. “Quit guessin’. You’ll never get it.”  
  
“So, it _is_ somethin’ weird.” Ryan narrowed his eyes, looking like he should have an interrogation light with how seriously he was taking this.  
  
“Well,” he furrowed his brows. “I guess?”  
  
“We’re not gonna make fun of ya, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Brendon smiled reassuringly, digging a Snickers chocolate bar out of his jacket pocket to dip in the coffee.  
  
“Yeah.” Frank added, “Take _weird_ as a compliment. Bein’ ‘normal’ sucks ass.”  
  
“Hmm.” Mr Way chewed his cheek. “I suppose we know each other well enough by now.” Hell, they spent near enough every day together.  
  
“Drum roll, please.” Ryan tapped his fingers against the desk to simulate a drum roll, then shot finger guns at Mr Way as a cue for him to speak.  
  
Shifting in the chair, he simply said, “Gerard.”  
  
Maybe it was the fact it belonged to Mr Way, but that was the cutest fucking name Frank had ever heard. Resting his chin on his palm, he accidentally let out a small “ _aww_.”  
  
Mr Way- or rather, Gerard- glanced at Frank, furrowing his brows with a quiet nervous laugh as he carded his fingers through his constantly disheveled hair. “What?”  
  
“Oh-” he waved a hand dismissively. “Nothin’, I just like your name. Suits you.”  
  
“Better than Hamish.” Brendon snorted, earning a playful shove from Ryan, who quickly piped up with another question;  
  
“Can we know your age, too?” He asked hesitantly, tracing patterns along Brendon’s bare forearm as he shifted around to lean in to his chest. The action almost caused him to spill his coffee, but he didn't mind because he loved it when they were innocently close.  
  
“My age?” Gerard nibbled at the end of his pencil, holding it vaguely like a cigarette.  
  
“Yeah, well you’re obviously younger than all the other old fossils we call teachers ‘round here.” Brendon half shrugged. “Either that, or you’ve got a really good skin care routine, in which I’d like to know your secret.”  
  
“Oh,” he mumbled, glancing out the window. “Well, I’m twenty two in April.”  
  
“Cool. You’re like our age.” A beam of hope shot through Frank’s chest at the possibility of them staying friends after he’d finished school.  
  
“Huh.” Wrinkling his nose, Brendon pressed his lips together. “No fantastic skin care advice for me then?” Though he didn't need it, his skin had barely any blemishes or marks, which a few people were a bit jealous of.  
  
“No, not really.” He chuckled lightly. “Try google.”  
  
“You’re young for a teacher.” Ryan narrowed his eyes, folding his arms on the desk as he leaned forwards eagerly. “Were you like a child prodigy?”  
  
“Actually, quite the opposite.” Gerard felt embarrassment crawl its way on to his skin in the form of a blush. “I can’t read very well, I suppose that’s one of the reasons why I love art so much.”  
  
Naturally, Frank was a curious human being, and couldn't think through on whether it was a sensitive subject or not, and blurted out, “Why can't you read very well?”  
  
Gerard got a look on his face that they’d never seen before, and none of them could decipher it too accurately. It was like shame, embarrassment, hesitation, and a burning awkwardness mixed in to one.  
  
Suddenly feeling awful like he’d slapped him in the face with a violation of privacy, Frank shook his head, trying to back track. “I-I was just- It’s okay if you don't wanna say.”  
  
Though they all had an inkling towards the answer, where they were most likely correct.  
  
“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” He strained a little smile, regretting he’d mentioned it at all, however he didn't see any harm in telling them besides another shovel of discomfort. “I-I have, uhm, dyslexia.”  
  
It fell silent. None of them knew what to say next, so they all shared _“I don't know”_ ’s telepathically. None of them knew exactly how to react.  
  
Eventually, before the gap stretched too long, Frank offered a consoling expression, “Oh. . . I’m sorry, I didn't think-”  
  
“Really, Frankie, it’s not that big of a deal. I just-don’t parade it, you know?”  
  
Nodding, Frank returned the slight smile Gerard sent. “If you want, uhm, any help with anything, I-I’ll help.”  
  
Even though Gerard knew he was trying to be kind, it made him feel useless, like he’d need someone to baby him. “Thank you.” Uneasy, he scratched the back of his neck, wrinkling his nose. He didn't think he’d admit to anyone that he needed help reading, regardless if he was struggling, because he was a grown man, and a teacher. He didn't want to have to need help. “Topic change?” He suggested with a half-hearted shrug.  
  
“‘Course.” Brendon nodded, pointing his half-eaten Snickers bar at Frank. “How ‘bout we poke fun at Iero’s art?”  
  
“Dude.” Frank shot him a deadpan glare, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Raising his eyebrows, Gerard commented in defence, “ _Actually_ , Iero’s work is excellent.”  
  
“Ha.” Frank reached across the table to slap Brendon lightly on the side of his head, messing up a perfect quiff in the process. “See, fuck you.” Then he shot Gerard a wide smile, buzzing at the fact he’d called his work _excellent_.  
  
Eyes wide, Brendon gasped over-dramatically. “Don't screw up my hair.” Ryan sat up from leaning against him, knowing full well he was about to dash over to the mirror hanging on the wall to fix his quiff.  
  
“Oh, also, Frankie, I got somethin’ for you.” Gerard remembered, shifting his feet off the desk to lean forwards to search through the drawers to retrieve a small device. Walking over to their table, he outstretched his arm to a confused Frank, who’d been wondering what the hell Mr Way could’ve had for him until he realised the device was his battered old phone.  
  
“That my phone?” He furrowed his brows as he patted his jeans pockets, finding they were indeed empty, receiving a nod in response. “Shit, how’d I not notice?”  
  
“Y’been a zombie all day, that’s how you didn't notice, genius.” Brendon snickered, glancing at them in the mirror as he positioned strands of stray hair so the style looked neater.  
  
A blush crept on to Frank’s cheeks, currently feeling a tad bit stupid. “Thank you.” He said to Gerard, gingerly taking his phone back. Their fingers inevitably brushed together, and, being the touch-starved loner boy he was, Frank jumped a little, dropping the device in the process.  
  
Unhelpfully, Ryan let out a small laugh, which Gerard joined in with, giggling quietly. “You alright there, Iero?”  
  
Mentally face-palming, Frank only felt his cheeks heat up even more, so he quickly snatched his phone off the floor and proceeded to avoid Gerard’s gaze, hiding behind his fringe.  
  
“He’s just clumsy.” Brendon piped up, returning to the table, perching himself on the edge beside Ryan. He reached forwards, enthusiastically ruffling Frank’s hair, earning an unamused glare. “Aren’t ya, Frankie?”  
  
Sighing deeply, he rolled his eyes, batting Brendon’s hand away, though he wasn't wrong. “Shove off.”  
  
-  
  
They spent way longer at school than any of them intended, however they were talking non-stop about random shit -most of the random crap being strange thoughts out of Ryan’s mind, followed by Brendon’s innuendoes, Frank’s laughter, and Gerard’s giggling. Luckily, no one else had been in the art department, so they were free to be as loud as they wanted, which Brendon took full advantage of.  
  
At one point, Gerard had refilled their coffees in the staff room, hoping other teachers didn't notice because he wasn’t really allowed to do that. But he supposed he could risk it as it was a Friday and they’d all been working relatively hard this afternoon.  
  
When it reached half past five, Gerard’s eyes widened slightly, surprised how late it was getting. They’d all gradually fallen silent around twenty minutes ago, deciding to actually try to get on with some work. Setting his pencil down from the sketch of a comic book character he’d been working on, he broke the silence, “You guys wanna start headin’ home?”  
  
Glancing up from an art analysis essay, Frank mumbled, “Why? What time is it?” Honestly, he’d been quite content. Here, he was with other people, whereas at home he’d just be flat out on his bed, probably watching YouTube.  
  
“Half five.”  
  
“Jesus.”  
  
“Not quite.” Gerard gave a slight smirk, earning an unimpressed “ _ha ha_.”  
  
“Fuck yes.” Brendon hastily shoved his possessions in to his bag, eager to escape. Even though he’d enjoyed spending time with everyone, he despised school and wanted to get home and relax. Ryan was the same. Usually, he slept over at Brendon’s -sometimes all weekend, in which he’d arrive home at eleven o'clock on a Sunday night, where his mother would scold him for not being prepared for school the next day.  
  
Slipping on his denim jacket, Gerard asked, “Anyone got any plans this weekend?”  
  
“Nada.” Frank replied automatically, chewing his cheek as he racked his brain for literally anything that wouldn't make him sound completely boring. “Might hang out with these losers at the arcade.”  
  
“Cool.” He adjusted the cuffs, then slung his satchel over his shoulder as he bent down to log off the computer. “I like it there. Beer and games in the same building.”  
  
“Yeah.” Brendon huffed, thinking back to his attempt at buying some alcohol with a shitty fake ID.

“Whatcha got planned, Mr Way?”  
  
“Oh, uhm,” Gerard bit his lip, tearing his gaze away from the screen as he conjured up an answer. “My boyfriend’s movin’ in with me, so I’m gonna be helpin’ him with that. Lotta unpackin’ ‘n’ shit.” He wasn't looking forward to lifting heavy boxes, rearranging furniture and sharing personal space permanently with someone else, but they’d made this decision weeks ago, and now it was finally happening.  
  
“Oh,” Brendon smirked, and Frank could feel an inappropriate remark coming like spiders scuttling across his skin. “So, you like dick?”  
  
Ryan snorted, Frank just rolled his eyes.  
  
Blinking hard, Gerard let out a cross between a laugh and a scoff. “Seriously? That’s what you took from that story?”  
  
“Apparently.” He draped an arm around Ryan’s shoulder, pulling him close to his side once they’d gotten ready to go. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “That a yes?”  
  
“Alright,” he put a hand on his hip, wearing a slightly amused expression. “You got me, I like dick. That what ya wanted to hear, Urie?”  
  
“Uh-huh.” He smiled slyly, sending a knowing side glance at Frank, who was close to imploding. “That’s all.”  
  
 _[written 17 August 2020]_


	4. Chapter 4

"Pass me that." Brendon mumbled, pawing at Frank's physics homework because it had all the answers on it, and he'd barely begun his own work. Really, all of Frank's answers probably wouldn't be correct, but it was still better than trying to conjure up his own in under thirty minutes before class started.  
  
"No." Frank frowned, sliding it out of his reach. "I spent ages on that, you can't copy it."  
  
"I'm not gonna _copy_ it." He rolled his eyes, slouching back in the chair. "Just. . . See what you've put."  
  
"You owe me, Urie, for all the homework you've copied. I should start chargin’ you, make a livin’ off it." Rolling his eyes, he passed Brendon the sheet, receiving a wide grin in return.  
  
"Thank you, princess, ya've saved my life." Snatching up a pencil, he instantly started filling out the worksheet, skimming through it like his life depended on it. Which, in the grand scheme of things, it could.  
  
"Let me in on that." Ryan peered over, abandoning the coke drink he'd been downing, paired with the sweets he'd been munching on in attempts to achieve a sugar rush and boost his energy. Although he didn't exactly need it -Ryan was always a bundle of joy and energy. They were sure he'd be bouncing off the walls soon.  
  
Thankfully, Frank had nothing to do, so he folded his arms on the desk, resting his head on them as his eyes fluttered shut. All he wanted was at least a ten minute power nap, but alas the world was against him today -literally no change there, then. A few moments later, the universe intent on interrupting his free time, he felt someone nudge his arm, and an excited whisper, " _Dude_."  
  
"Hmm?" Frank mumbled, not seeing the point of opening his eyes unless the building was on fire. He wanted to snooze.  
  
" _Dude_!" Okay, it was Brendon, and now he was kicking his shin under the table.  
  
Reluctantly raising his head, he glared at him through his shaggy brown hair that was masking the dark circles around his eyes. "Oh my God, _what_?"  
  
Brendon looked _much_ too smug for this early in the morning. "Look at Gerard."  
  
Furrowing his brows, Frank glanced around the room. He hadn't even noticed Mr Way come in, yet there he was, stood by the teacher's desk as he shrugged a leather jacket off. Needless to say, his appearance had changed drastically compared to how he normally dressed.  
  
Frank had liked the whole timid teacher-vibe Gerard had been sauntering around in for the past few weeks, but he was also digging the hot mess he appeared to be right now. Black hair tangled, sticking up in every direction imaginable, eyeliner dark and contrasting with his pale skin, clothes dishevelled, exposing his collarbones, which, _yes_ , Frank might have also found attractive. There was no doubt in his mind that every inch of Gerard was fucking attractive.  
  
"Wow." He blinked hard, unable to tear his eyes away. There was just something so captivating about this look that he adored.  
  
“Watch it, you’ll start actin’ creepy again.” Brendon warned quietly, tapping a pencil on the desk. He knew he was going to enjoy this -Frank was a hopeless wreck.  
  
“No, I won’t.” He mumbled, shoving his shoulder playfully.  
  
Inevitably, Frank’s curious hazel eyes wandered a little, and he discovered Gerard was also wearing the most ripped jeans he’d ever seen in his life. They certainly went against the school’s teacher’s dress code. “ _Sir_.” Lips parted, his jaw almost dropped. “You tryin’ to make a fashion statement or somethin’?”  
  
Carding his fingers through his hair, he glanced over, weary eyes finding Frank’s. “What?”  
  
“You wanna explain your _smexy_ outfit?” Brendon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Gerard’s entire face to go bright red, cheeks burning with embarrassment.  
  
“Do I really look that bad?” He bit his lip worriedly, tugging his Green Day t-shirt down in a futile attempt to hide the rips in his jeans. Incredibly skinny jeans for that matter.  
  
“Not _bad_.” Ryan grinned, sucking the sugar off a sweet. “Definitely. Not bad.”  
  
“I-I know I shouldn’t be wearing these, but-” Letting out a long sigh, he avoided their stares as he collapsed in to the chair at the teacher’s desk -barely able to stay awake as a result of being active pretty much all night. He rested his head on his hand, worrying about what everyone was going to think.  
  
When he didn't continue after a solid minute, Brendon’s smile stretched even further. “Had a night out, did ya?”  
  
“Sort of?” Gerard’s nervous expression contorted in to one that made out as if he was in pain.  
  
Frank blushed slightly. He would have _loved_ to know the details of Gerard's _night out_. Especially wanting to know the story behind his attire. Was there a fun, flirtatious side of him that they didn't know about yet? _God_ , he hoped so.   
  
“I was out later than I meant to be, ‘nd. . . I didn't have time to change in to somethin’ more appropriate.”  
  
 _No complaints here_. Frank thought, metalling scolding himself for allowing his eyes to keep flickering to the tears in Gerard’s jeans. Gerard was a pretty boy, he couldn't help it. “You look. . .” He swallowed the lump in his throat, shifting around in his seat, contemplating on where exactly he was going with this. “Hot.” He eventually murmured, earning a strange look from Brendon.  
  
Above all else, Gerard’s reaction was mainly surprised -and a little bit flattered. A tad flustered too. “Thank you, Frankie. . . But I’m your teacher. I’m not supposed to look _hot_ , I’m supposed to look. . . _Suitable_.”  
  
Highly amused, Brendon chuckled, “Doesn't mean you aren't pretty, and the girls won't wanna jump your bones. Some boys too.” He nodded his head towards Frank, but luckily Gerard didn't pick up on that.  
  
“Well.” Gerard sighed, lazily flicking the hair out of his eyes. “They’ll have a hard time trying, I’m not exactly straight. . . Or single.” He added as an afterthought, reminding Frank that, _yes_ , it was an extremely bad idea to want to grab Gerard by the collar of his shirt and kiss him.  
  
When Gerard reluctantly rose to his feet to fetch the notes and art folders for the day’s lessons, Frank noticed he was wearing black clunky boots that laced all the way up to his knees. Honestly, besides showing them another side of his personality, he seemed exhausted.  
  
“Is there anything you want me to do?” Frank offered a smile.  
  
Beginning to sort the folders out on the tables, he responded drowsily, “Take my place as teacher for the day, please.”  
  
For a moment, they watched him wander around like a zombie, eyes half closed and tinted red. Wanting to help, Frank got up to take the majority of the folders off him and set them at students’ seats, which he thanked him for.   
  
“You okay?” Ryan questioned, again taking Gerard a bit by surprise.  
  
Rubbing his eyes, he nodded, suppressing a yawn. “‘M hungover, I think.”  
  
“You _think_?” Brendon furrowed his brows, packing his work away as the bell was about to ring.  
  
Going out and partying wasn't really his scene, but last night he’d felt kind of pressured in to going, and hadn’t wanted to upset his boyfriend, who had been thrilled he’d finally loosened up and had a drink -or five- for the first time in a while. Scared of judgement, Gerard admittedly quietly with a shrug. “I don't know how much I had.”  
  
“How ‘bout you bunk of school with us and we’ll all go to the arcade and chill out?” Brendon stood and slipped his jacket on, nicking a strawberry lace from Ryan’s sweets collection, earning a light slap on the wrist. Though he just smirked and kissed Ryan’s cheek, making him blush.  
  
“‘S much as I’d love to, I don't think I can.” Gerard frowned, chewing his cheek. “But if I decide to drop everythin’ and ditch, you’ll be the first to know.”  
  
“Cool.” Ryan let out a short laugh. “Hangin’ out with our art teacher. Could be fun. . . I hope this job hasn't aged you, and you’re not a total snooze.”  
  
Gerard giggled, wincing slightly when pain flared behind his eyes, letting him know that his headache wasn't going to disappear any time soon. “I _hope_ I’m not a total snooze, though I can’t guarantee anythin’. I guess you’ll have to find out.”  
  
“Based on your jeans alone, I’m sure you’re not.” Frank raised his eyebrows, causing a blush to creep up Gerard’s neck.  
  
-  
  
“I don’t know how you do it.” Frank stood there, baffled by Brendon’s ability to always beat his own high score on the Ms Pacman machine.  
  
“I got skills, Iero.” Brendon grinned, almost jumping on the spot in victory.  
  
He always won on the games front, but Frank had talent for dodging the security guards when they get kicked out of the arcade for being too noisy, or for tricking machines in to giving them free prizes. They didn't always misbehave, but sometimes they got bored and wanted a thrill.  
  
Suddenly, Frank’s phone buzzed in his pocket, causing him to groan in frustration when he saw it was his mother calling. She almost always rang to tell him to get home, though it wasn't even late yet -only ten o'clock.  
  
“Hang on.” He put a finger over Brendon’s mouth because whenever anyone was on the phone, Brendon liked to make inappropriate sounds in the background. Normally, Ryan would join in, but he was at home this evening cramming in pages of homework before tomorrow.  
  
“I don't have time to talk, I just wanted to ring to tell you that me and your dad have been called away to a meeting in New York.” His mother rushed in one breath, the car engine unmistakably humming in the background.  
  
Frank blinked. “Hello to you too.”  
  
“Don’t be like that.” She snapped, making Frank roll his eyes. “We’ll be back in a few days.”  
  
“Right.” He sighed, slumping back against the side of the machine. Brendon glanced at him curiously, and Frank waved him off.  
  
With that, she hung up, obviously too busy to say goodbye or speak about anything else, or ask her own son how he was. However, Frank tried not to care. They were always called away on business trips -sometimes for weeks- so he’d learned to grow accustomed to it.  
  
Sighing loudly, he returned his phone to his back pocket. At least he’d have the whole house to himself.  
  
“You alright?” Brendon asked softly. He knew the whole situation with his parents, and usually invited Frank to temporarily live with him when they were gone for too long so he didn't get lonely.  
  
“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugged, scuffing his battered old converse shoes on the floor. Thankfully, the lighting in the arcade was hardly ever bright, instead flooding them with dark hues of blue and purple, so the pissed of expression plastered across his features wasn't too visible.  
  
“What did she say?” He pressed cautiously, moving to stand beside him.  
  
“They’re going away for a few days.” Flicking the hair out his eyes, he shrugged again. “I shouldn't care anymore, I’m used to it.”  
  
“You wanna stay at my place?”  
  
“No, it’s okay.” Running his fingers through his hair, Frank sighed deeply. “I’ll be fine.”  
  
 _[written 24 August 2020]_


	5. Chapter 5

Maybe Frank was just designed for the night, because he didn't seem to function during the day like a normal human being. To be fair, neither did Brendon or Ryan, though they weren't as bad as Frank, who was currently lying on the wall outside the school, eyes closed and hands linked under his head as a pillow. It was eight o'clock in the morning, so luckily there weren't many other students around.  
  
"I am _so_ tempted to push you off." Brendon grinned cunningly, sliding his phone in his pocket before an eagle-eyed teacher could confiscate it. "Ry might have to restrain me."  
  
"What?" Ryan furrowed his brows, having not heard anything other than _'restrain me'_ as he was messing around on his own phone, obviously not bothered whether a teacher noticed it or not. "I'm doin' what now?"  
  
"Holdin' me back before I push Iero off the wall."  
  
"Don't you dare." Frank mumbled, turning his head to shoot them both a warning glare. "If ya do, I will literally cross the road to the shops, buy a razor, and shave your goddamn head."  
  
"Lies." He scoffed, hopping up on to the wall where Frank's feet were, which wasn't a good idea because he was now tempted to kick him off  
  
"You love me too much."  
  
"Hmm." He hummed, staring up at the cloudy grey sky. The weather was consistently bleak, but none of them minded because they despised the sun anyway. Well, Frank did, while Brendon wished he could live on the sun, and Ryan tolerated it. "I do, but don't underestimate me, smart ass."  
  
Folding his arms over his chest, Ryan narrowed his gaze. "Is it bad I kinda wanna see you shave his head?"  
  
Putting a hand to his chest, Brendon gasped dramatically, eyes wide. "I am your _boyfriend_ , you should be backin' me up."  
  
"I _will_ , I just can't imagine you bald." He stepped forwards to run his fingers through Brendon's hair, surprising Frank with the fact he was letting another person mess with his perfectly styled quiff. "You'd look proper weird."  
  
"Be worth it though, right?" He raised his eyebrows, looking sideways at Frank, who had his eyes closed again, trying to catch up on sleep he'd missed due to staying up in to the early hours of the morning surfing social media. "You'd have to video it too. Fuckin' _gold_."  
  
"Don't." Frank stated firmly. He did not fancy landing in to a pile of thorn bushes in the first hour of consciousness after a restless night's sleep.  
  
"Fine." Brendon rolled his eyes at Frank's grumpy state, probably because he hadn't had his morning coffee yet. "'Nother day."  
  
"Hey," Ryan tapped Frank on the shoulder, earning a slight scowl because he didn't want to be woken up just as he was about to successfully drift off -even if there were jagged stones digging in to his spine. "Quick, the love of your life's here."  
  
Extremely confused, Frank grudgingly sat up, propping himself up with his elbow, thankful he'd decided to wear a leather jacket, otherwise he would have scraped his skin on the stone. "What?" Then he saw Mr Way walking towards them, head down, clearly absorbed in his own little world. "He is _not_ the love of my life."  
  
"Must be." Brendon muttered thoughtfully, tapping his foot on the floor, the only one tall enough to reach the ground while perched on the wall.  
  
"He's not." He groaned, frustrated, running his hands down his face. They were blowing things out of proportion. "I just-I don't know. . . I like him 'n' that's it, 'kay?"  
  
Honestly, by now, he could have written a list. He liked Gerard's small teeth when he smiled, the way he talked out of one side of his mouth because he was used to holding a cigarette between his chapped lips, he liked his black hair -and admittedly wouldn't mind running his fingers through it. There were many things he liked about Gerard, but that didn't mean he liked him _that_ way.  
  
He was their friend, and, most importantly, their _teacher_.  
  
"Whatever you say, princess." Brendon smirked, nudging him with his shoulder. He had other snarky things to say, but Mr Way was within ear shot now, so he settled for a wave, "Hey, sir."  
  
"He told us not to call him that." Ryan reminded him under his breath, adjusting the bandanna tied around his head, the red complimenting his mousy brown hair.  
  
However, apparently it didn't matter because Gerard either didn't hear or didn't mind because he just gave them all a quick glance before entering the building. "Good mornin', guys."  
  
Despite offering them a smile, he didn't seem too good, like he'd lost sleep just as Frank had, but a tad bit worse. He had dark rings around his eyes, though they didn't know if they were caused by smudged eyeliner he normally wore or not. Usually, his wild hair looked somehow neatly dishevelled, however today it just looked plain tangled, falling in his eyes. If it was at all possible, because -again, similar to Frank- he was a modern day vampire, he was paler too.  
  
Perhaps it was the fact Frank was developing a crush on him, so he tended to notice the changes in Gerard's mood, or else it was blatantly obvious to everyone. "Did he seem okay to you?"  
  
"Not really." Ryan frowned with half a shrug. "Maybe he's tired."  
  
Letting out a small sigh, he nervously chewed his cheek. "Yeah, maybe."  
  
-  
  
"You wanna explain why're you're not okay?" Frank asked after finding the guts to search for an answer as to why Gerard had been so. . . _Off_ all day.  
  
Sure, Frank liked to think he was a decent human being, so he'd waited until everyone else had cleared off home and it was just them two left in the art department. Thankfully, Brendon and Ryan hadn't even shown up yet. They were currently snoozing through a catch-up lesson of physics. But, _nope_ , not Frank. He'd skipped the catch-up lesson in order to kindly interrogate their teacher.  
  
The rain that had predictably started pouring down due to this morning's gloomy weather was the only sound in the room for a good ten seconds, steadily building the tension between them. The wind howled through a cracked open window. It was weirdly spooky, the atmosphere prepared for bad news.  
  
Furrowing his brows, Gerard glanced up from the paint he was tidying away, flashing a meagre smile. "I'm fine, Frankie."  
  
 _Bullshit_. Was what he originally wanted to say. Instead, he took a deep breath, folding his arms across his chest as he stood up from the chair he'd been sat at. "C'mon, I know you." He coaxed in a softer tone, desperately trying to achieve eye contact, but Gerard was avoiding his gaze like the plague.  
  
"I-I'm okay, really." Annoyingly, his tone wavered, and he prayed it wasn't noticeable. To distract himself, he began rinsing the paint brushes at the back of the room where the sinks were, turning his back as he tried to master a poker face.  
  
Sighing, Frank switched his gaze out of the window, watching nearby trees dance in the strong breeze before returning it to Gerard, hoping he could talk some answers out of him. "I don't think you are. . . You can talk to me, you know?"  
  
Putting the brushes on the draining board, he nodded silently, casting a quick glance at him before drying the water off his hands. He went to walk over to the teacher's desk, though Frank was quick to block the way, causing Gerard to automatically flinch. A spark of fear flickered in his dull hazel eyes for a moment, making Frank's heart plummet.  
  
To give him some space, he stepped back a bit. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused when he noticed the skin around Gerard's right eye was a lot darker than he first thought, and he didn't think it was smokey eyeliner.  
  
Feeling panic stir in his mind, Gerard knew what Frank was staring at. He bit his lip, gazing right back in to Frank's concerned eyes, not too sure what else to do. He'd noticed now. Oh how he wanted a reasonable explanation for this, but he didn't have one.  
  
"What-?" Frank cleared his throat, gently touching Gerard's shoulder to move him more in to the light. "What happened to your eye?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Don't shit me, I can see there's something wrong." He cut the crap, abandoning a soft tone for a more stern one in hopes he'd reach the problem a bit quicker.  
  
"I'm _fine_." Folding his arms across his chest, Gerard huffed, "Do you know what that means?"  
  
"Do you?" Frank scoffed, raising his eyebrows.  
  
Shaking his head, he simply shrugged, fighting the urge to cry.  
  
All day, he'd been on his feet, teaching, marking, and preparing for future lessons, so he hadn't had a chance to fully process what happened. He hadn't had a chance to breakdown and cry, which he desperately wanted to do. But not in front of Frank, of all people.  
  
"How bad is it?"  
  
Letting out a deep breath, he whispered, biting his lip -hard. "Pretty not-so-good."  
  
"What happened? Who did this to you?"  
  
"I don't want to have this conversation with you, Frank." He said quietly, screwing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. There were tears building, and he knew if he opened his eyes, they'd spill over and he wouldn't be able to stop.  
  
"I'm just worried-" He pleaded, but Gerard cut him off.  
  
"Don't be." His features twitched in to a scowl, and he bore his sombre gaze in to Frank's eyes to get the point across that he wasn't interested in sharing his problems.  
  
Watching with curiosity, Frank held his ground, arms folded defiantly. He wasn't going to let this go; they both knew that.  
  
Searching for something to keep busy, Gerard walked across the room to the art display that needed to be taken down so it was clear for students' new projects. At least now he had his back to Frank because next thing he knew, a few tears trickled down his cheeks, and he hastily wiped them away before reaching up to take the pins out of the posters.  
  
The whole point of turning away was to leave the topic of his bruises behind, however it was deemed futile. Around ten seconds later, after Frank had heard Gerard's not-so-silent sniffling, he wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. Surprised, Gerard tensed, though he allowed for Frank to hold him. He froze briefly, barely breathing, biting his lip as he felt a wave of tears coming on.  
  
Eventually, he turned around to see Frank gazing at him, offering a sad smile. He put his hands on Frank's chest, forehead against his shoulder, dampening his shirt with tears as he couldn't do anything but break down and cry. Frank put one hand to the back of Gerard's neck, the other around his torso, pulling him in closer.  
  
“It’s okay.” He whispered, moving his hand slightly to soothingly stroke his fingers though Gerard’s hair.  
  
Gerard had needed that. He'd needed someone to hold him, despite not being totally comfortable with that fact it was a student and not his boyfriend saying sorry. He was due an apology after all the shit he'd had to deal with.  
  
Slowing his breathing, attempting to regain control of his emotions, Gerard gathered what was left of his dignity, and pulled away. He kept his eyes partly shut as he dried them with the sleeve of his shirt.  
  
Brushing the hair out of Gerard's eyes, Frank tucked it behind his ears to see his face. His cheeks were flushed, eyes slightly bloodshot, but he still weakly returned the small smile Frank gave him. "Can you tell me?" He murmured quietly, resting his hands above Gerard's hips.  
  
"It-it was an accident." He lied with a deep sigh, thinking he might as well tell Frank some version of the truth. "Actually, it was my-my fault, really." Wincing at the memory, he glanced down at the band design on Frank's t-shirt, unable to meet his gaze. "I-I angered him, I went too far, and I didn't realise-"  
  
"Angered who?" Frank asked, a little more harshly than intended. Physical violence was no way to solve anything, no matter what he'd done -if he'd even done anything at all.  
  
" _Frank_ -" Gerard whined, digging the heels of his palms in to his eyes. "Please."  
  
"Who?" He pushed further, though he had an inkling he wasn't going to like the answer.  
  
"My boyfriend. . ."  
  
"Oh." A scowl overtook his expression, lips parted in disbelief. "Is he always like that?"  
  
"No." He lied again, swallowing the lump in his throat. "It's okay, he apologised."  
  
"Still, that's not okay. He _hit_ you."  
  
"Frank-" he sucked in a deep breath. " _Please_ , I don't want to talk about this. Can’t we change the subject?"  
  
Hesitantly, Frank nodded. He certainly didn't want to upset Gerard more than he already was. Though he wasn't going to forget how he’d gotten that bruise.  
  
 _[written 21st August 2020]_


	6. Chapter 6

"We have got to get a fuckin' umbrella." Brendon huffed as they burst through the school's side doors, drenched to the bone from the rain outside. They created puddles on the floor the longer they stood, trying to peel off their coats. They'd just returned to the main building from the IT block, which was inconveniently the furthest away.

"Agreed." Ryan shook his head like a dog, spraying them both with water.

"Dude." Frank deadpanned. "Can you not?"

Rolling his eyes, he just cracked a smile, readjusting his bandana, which mildly resembled a rainbow. "Don't be so grumpy, Iero. It's Friday!"

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite him trying to maintain the frown he'd had on since he'd stepped ankle deep in to a puddle the moment he'd left the IT block. "Arcade tonight?"

"Obviously." Brendon grinned. They'd just trenched through the awful weather, yet his quiff was still intact. He didn't look like he'd even been touched by a single raindrop. They envied him sometimes for his ability to always seem unscathed by anything.

"You comin' up to art?"

They shared a look. "We gotta get home but we'll see ya tonight, yeah?" Ryan nodded, receiving one in response.

Of course, Frank knew they wanted some time alone every now and then, seeing as he occasionally became a third wheel, however he didn't mind because he had Gerard to gaze at, annoy, and tease.

They all shared a chorus of goodbyes before they went their separate ways. The two love birds ventured down the hall to the side door exit, while Frank skipped upstairs to U169. The thought of spending another afternoon with Mr Way lifted his spirits more than it probably should have done, however Frank couldn't help it. This was practically his first proper crush, and he was crushing hard.

When Gerard caught sight of Frank's ragged state, he tried to supress a small laugh, but Frank heard and narrowed his eyes sceptically.

"What?"

Gesturing to Frank's current scruffy state, he just grinned wider. "You have trouble gettin' dressed?"

"Ha ha." He retorted, sticking his tongue out like a child.

Gerard just raised one eyebrow in a very attractive way, and shrugged.

Dumping his bags, Frank hung his hoodie over the radiator so it could dry, then set his guitar beside it. This was the first time he'd brought his guitar in to class, surprisingly, and Gerard didn't know he played, so his eyes lit up as soon as he saw Frank's guitar case.

"You play?" He beamed.

Biting his lip, Frank smirked. He was a bit awkward playing for other people, but he had no problem chatting about how good he was. Admittedly, there weren't many things he would say he had talent for, or brag about, however he showed off immensely when it came to music.

"I'm the best damn player you'll ever meet."

"Mind proven' it, iero?" Gerard challenged, perching on the edge of a table opposite Frank, who narrowed his eyes.

"I don't know." He pressed his lips in to a thin line. "I don't usually play for people."

Gerard pouted, "Not even for me, your favourite teacher?"

Rolling his eyes, Frank scoffed, "Shove off."

Of fucking course he was going to play his Goddam guitar for Gerard because he was Gerard. He couldn't resist his gorgeous hazel eyes, and literally every other part of him, including his personality, because he was lovely.

"How do you know you're my favourite teacher?" Frank retorted, as he unzipped the guitar case and sat down too.

Biting his lip, Gerard winked, "I always am, sugar."

That was so fucking attractive, Frank just about exploded. For a moment, he gazed at him, a little stunned, then swallowed the lump in his throat as he resisted the urge to grab his stupid face and kiss him.

"You flirtin' with me, sir?" A blush crept up his neck. He'd liked that.

"I-" Surprised that he'd actually said it, Gerard's eyes widened slightly. "No?"

"Hmm, sure." He felt butterflies devouring his insides, in a good way, and wondered if Gerard felt the same. "What shall I play? Got any suggestions?"

"D'you know Fall Out Boy?"

Instantly, Frank's eyes lit up like a kid's on Christmas. "You like Fall Out Boy?"

Resting his chin on his palm, he smiled. "'Course. I love 'em."

"I know how to play Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet." He chuckled at the length of the title.

"Wonderful. . . Play it for me?"

Tapping his foot, trying to remember the chords, he proposed, "Let's make a deal."

"Oh no." Gerard carded his fingers through his hair. "What sorta deal? I know you."

Folding his arms over his guitar, he snorted, "Way to be over dramatic."

"It's justified."

A smirked tugged at he corner of his lips. "If I play, you sing."

"What?" He furrowed his brows. "I can't sing."

That was about the dumbest thing he'd ever heard him say. "Yeah, you can."

"How would you-"

"You sing when you're concentrating sometimes." He said, unable to stop smiling.

Hiding his face in his hands, Gerard peeked at Frank through his fingers. "God, do I?"

Chewing his lip, Frank added quietly. "'S adorable."

By now Gerard was bright red, resembling the colour of a fire engine.

Nudging him with his foot, he whined, "C'mon, sir."

"Fine." He let out a cross between a sigh and a laugh. "If it means so much to you, you weirdo."

Frank simply smirked.

-

After listening to Gerard sing, he was about ready to slap him for being such a liar. "Can't sing, my ass." He scoffed, blinking hard in disbelief. How could he be so down on himself when his voice sound like that?

"Your voice is rad as fuck." Honestly, he could listen to it all day and it still wouldn't be enough. Perhaps he was overreacting, but he didn't care.

"Thank you." Gerard blushed, glancing at him through his hair. "You play guitar really well. Joe Trohman's gonna have some competition."

Beginning to pack his guitar away. he raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Of course."

This man was too kind, only making Frank like him more. "Thank you."

Currently, it was twenty past four, and in less than an hour Frank was supposed to be at the arcade. Obviously, he was going to have to change in to dry clothes first because he wasn't going to show up drenched.

A comfortable silence washed over them, highlighting the noise of rain on the roof. Outside, the wind was howling, and the sky was a dismal grey.

Sighing deeply, Frank wished he was wearing more than a hoodie. "It's rainin'."

"So it is."

"I'm gonna have to walk home in this shit."

Peering at him over the top of the school computer as he logged off for the weekend, he smiled, "No, you're not."

Confused, Frank furrowed his brows, trying to find a response as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

"I can give you a lift, if ya want?"

"Oh." He beamed. "Are you sure?"

"'Course." Grabbing his satchel, Gerard bit his lip, "Though I didn't bring my car."

-

At first, Frank had wondered what the hell that had meant, however when Gerard strode over to a huge fucking motorbike like it was no big deal, all became clear.

Gerard seemed so. . . sweet. Not the kind of person that would own a motorbike, though when Frank had witnessed him swing his leg over the seat as he slid his fingerless gloves on, everything changed.

All of a sudden Gerard looked. . . intimidating. It didn't help that he had been wearing a leather jacket and ripped skinny jeans, only making himself look hotter, which gave Frank an urge to climb on to his lap and kiss him like it wasn't illegal.

Upon seeing the motorbike, Frank had been shocked to say the least.

"You own a motorbike!" He'd gasped, slapping Gerard playfully on the arm for not telling him after all these months.

They'd stood in the pouring rain for a good few minutes as Frank had traced his fingers along the gorgeous design.

It wasn't a small moped, it was fucking huge. A Harley-Davidson Sportster. The metal was a shining silver while the rest was matte black with some traces of dark red.

"What the fuck?" Frank had scoffed in disbelief. "This can't be yours."

"You better believe it." Gerard had grinned, reliving Frank of his bag as he stuffed it in the compartment along with his own.

"You're kidding me, sir."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he shook his head. "C'mon, Frankie." He'd patted the seat, gesturing for Frank to jump on the back.

But Frank didn't respond right away. Stunned, he'd stood staring, imprinting this image in his mind; Gerard on the motorbike, rain making his skin glisten under the street lamps, stark black hair tied back.

Gerard had handed him a helmet, raising the question of what Gerard was going to wear because he didn't have two.

"Isn't that illegal?" Frank furrowed his brows, earning a wink from Gerard, who'd whispered, "Don't tell."

Their faces were inches apart as Gerard had glanced over his shoulder at him, yet their lips didn't touch, so Frank had just smiled instead.

Luckily, Frank had decided to leave his guitar in the music rooms, so they didn't have to worry about that.

The entire ride, Frank had had his chest pressed against Gerard's back, and his arms wrapped tightly around his waist. The speed in which Gerard was driving at was incredibly fast, giving Frank a feeling that there was a whole other side to Gerard's personality they didn't know about. A little wild, maybe?

When they arrived at Frank's house, he almost didn't want to leave. He wanted to drive around town all night, just the two of them under the city lights.

There was something about riding on a motorbike that made them feel that little bit more free.

Granted, some roads were busier than others, causing Frank to unintentionally squeeze Gerard's waist in slight fear of crashing, which just made Gerard chuckle to himself and Frank could feel the vibrations through his chest.

Thankfully, the weather had calmed down from torrential rain to a drizzle, but the concrete was still wet and every time they'd turned a corner, Frank had prayed they didn't skid.

"C'mon, you can't stay here all night." Gerard tapped Frank's hand, which was clutching at his shirt, arms still around his waist even after they'd parked outside the house.

"What?" He blinked, then composed himself. "Yeah, I know." Slowly, he removed his arms as he hopped oh-so-gracefully off the bike, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Leaning forwards, Gerard put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, he nodded as he took the helmet off, carding his fingers through the hair that had been matted to his forehead. He passed Gerard the helmet. "Don't go breaking the law again."

"Hey, we didn't get caught." He grinned slyly.

Narrowing his eyes, Frank retorted, "Not this time, but next time, who knows?"

Raising his eyebrows, Gerard just shrugged.

"Anyway, thanks for the ride home."

Fetching Frank's bag from the compartment, he waved a hand dismissively. "No problem, 's my pleasure."

Disappointed they had to part ways, he smiled regardless. "I'll see you on Monday."

"See you later."

[Written 20 September 2020]


	7. Chapter 7

“No way." Brendon shook his head, sending Frank a look that screamed 'are you shitting me?'. "I don't believe ya."

"Ask him yourself." Frank grinned, hopping up to sit sideways on Gerard's motorbike -surely he wouldn't mind as long as he didn't scratch or break it.

"I would, but he's not here, dipshit."

They were currently stood in the school's car park, crowded around Mr Way's Harley-Davidson because Frank thought it was way too cool not to show it off to his friends -regardless of the fact it wasn't his to parade.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, running a hand along the metal handle bars, able to see his distorted reflection in them. "I don't know." He murmured, sharing a sceptical glance with his boyfriend. "What d'you think?"

"Gerard's too. . . Shy to own a motorbike." Brendon muttered, furrowing his brows. "Is that the word to use? Shy? 'Cause he's not exactly a badass, but he's not a wuss either."

"He could be a badass." A smirk tugged at Frank's lips. Images from last night flashed in his mind, making him certain there was more to Gerard than they currently knew.

"What?" Glancing over at Frank through his mousy brown hair, Ryan chuckled, vaguely amused. "Like, he's a badass in secret?"

"Hey, you never know." Biting his lip, he shrugged, patting the leather seat of the motorbike. "He owns this for a start."

"Loads of people own motorbikes, and it doesn't make them instantly cool." Brendon scoffed, then back-tracked a second. "But I'm not saying Gerard isn't cool. I mean, he must be fuckin' fabulous if you like him this much, Iero."

Rolling his eyes, Frank groaned loudly out of frustration. Whenever they discussed Mr Way, which was more often than they probably should have done, it annoyingly always came back to his little crush. "Shove off. I like him as a friend."

Both Ryan and Brendon shot him an unimpressed look.

"Alright. . ." He caved a little, suddenly finding the gravel on the ground very interesting and scuffed it with his boot. "Friends that kiss -occasionally."

"Ha, knew it." Brendon laughed quietly, leaning against the bike as he nudged Frank in the ribs. "You're so obvious, you little creep, I'm surprised Mr Way hasn't caught on."

Only striking slight fear in to Frank's chest like a small dagger, Ryan added in a low dramatic voice, "Or maybe he has."

"Oh, God." He ran a hand down his face, briefly wishing he could buy different friends that didn't taunt him so much. "Don't say that."

The smile on Brendon's lips just grew wider. "Aren't you curious?"

Taking a deep breath, Frank's heart rate sped up a bit. "Of course I'm fucking curious. But I can't -and won't- do anything."

"It doesn't matter that he's your teacher, that just makes it wonderfully scandalous."

"Scandalous, really?" Ryan raised his eyebrows.

Brendon waved a hand dismissively, then went to continue bugging Frank when he was cut off before he could even utter a single word.

"Even if he wasn't my teacher, he's still got a boyfriend, remember?" Frank added grudgingly, wrinkling his nose. He didn't like thinking of that fact too much. Even though he hadn't met Gerard's boyfriend, he knew he wasn't a kind person -he'd hit him for fuck's sake.

"Oh, yeah." They both mumbled in unison.

"And they've just moved in together, so it must be pretty serious."

"Hmm." Brendon frowned. "You never know."

-

"Hey, guys." Gerard greeted them warmly -like he always did, causing a soft smile to spread across Frank's face.

Gerard had his legs kicked up on the desk, staring at a book he was marking with an expression so intense that it could set the paper on fire if he wasn't careful. The conflicting thoughts going on in his mind were distracting him from reading properly, and his dyslexia was acting up. Basically, he hadn't had a particularly grand day.

However, he cracked a smile once his eyes drifted from Brendon to Ryan to Frank.

"Hey." Frank leaned against the table opposite Mr Way, running his tongs over his lip ring in a distracting way -though Gerard refused to admit that.

Brendon hopped on the desk beside Gerard, which was tricky considering he had a fuck load of miscellaneous items scattered around on the wooden surface. He offered him some M&Ms that he'd been very protective of because he loved his food. "Want some, teach?"

"Sure, thank you." He reached forwards to take a few from the packet.

"That's not fair." Folding his arms across his chest, Frank huffed like the beginning of a child's tantrum, "Why didn't you give me any?"

A shit-eating grin plastered itself on Brendon's perfectly smug face. "To piss you off."

Raising his eyebrows, he just flipped the bird, "Fuck you, Urie."

"Here, catch." Gerard said, tossing a couple of his M&Ms towards Frank, who, despite his poor hand-eye coordination -and lingering problem with his sight that he didn't want to address because he hated wearing glasses- caught them gratefully.

"Cheers."

Rolling his eyes to the moon and back, sitting beside Frank opposite Brendon, Ryan chuckled at their behaviour, "I swear to God, you're all children. . . And I'm the youngest!"

"These two are, not me." Gerard smiled before glancing back down at the work he should have completed ages ago. "How're all your days treating you?"

"My day sucked ass." Ryan frowned, resting his chin on his palm, balancing his elbow on his knee. His shoulders deflated as he sighed deeply. "I got a last minute maths exam."

"I don't think you can suck ass." Brendon commented, furrowing his brows.

"Ugh, you know what I mean." He slapped him playfully. In retaliation, Brendon just kissed his cheek, causing a blush to creep up Ryan's neck.

"Mine was alright." Frank dumped his bag on the floor with a loose shrug of his shoulders. He didn't think Gerard needed to know about the fact he'd gotten shoved to the ground on his way to English through the halls, and had dropped his bag so everything went everywhere. He'd had to scramble to pick them up while people trampled past, kicking things further away. "What about you?"

"Coulda been better, I suppose. All the classes are so noisy and there's just so much work that it just gets too much sometimes, you know?" He wrinkled his nose, sliding the pen behind his ear to balance it there -Frank found it weirdly endearing. "I think I might cry."

"Aw." Brendon manoeuvred himself in to an awkward position so he could put his arm around Gerard's shoulder, squishing their cheeks together, making Gerard giggle quietly in appreciation. "We're here to cheer you up."

Gerard looked at Frank and gestured for him to join in the hug. "C'mere, Frankie." He stood up properly, Brendon's arm still around him, and outstretched a hand towards Frank, who beamed and glided over happily. No way was he going to miss out on an opportunity to hug Gerard.

Wrapping an arm around Frank's waist, Gerard pulled him against his side, able to feel Frank's breath against his neck.

"You too, Ry." Brendon winked, waving him over, not wanting his boyfriend to feel left out.

They were all huddled together, a mess of troubled souls. However, they broke apart when Brendon suddenly sneezed, headbutting Gerard's shoulder.

Even though it had hurt a little, Gerard couldn't stop giggling because Ryan had whined "Bren!" in a disgusted voice as he'd shuffled out of their group hug.

"Gross." Ryan added, scrunching his nose as he shivered uncomfortably. He wasn't necessarily a clean freak, or a germaphobe, but he could do without someone sneezing on him.

"It's not my fault!" He said defensively, rolling his eyes slightly.

By now the others had detached themselves from the hug, and Frank didn't think he could get away with snuggling up against Gerard's side for much longer without it seeming a bit weird. Taking a long breath, inhaling the cigarette smoke and coffee scent that was Gerard, he unhooked his arm from around Gerard's waist and settled for leaning against the wall instead.

Straightening out his waistcoat, Gerard spoke up, "So, what've you guys got planned for this weekend?"

"Nothing." Frank replied automatically, earning a smirk Frank Brendon, which meant he definitely had something up his sleeve -good or bad, he couldn't tell.

"Oh, yes we do, my dear boy." He clapped his hands together, much like a villain would before explaining their master plan to take over the world.

"We do?" Even Ryan seemed a bit puzzled, throwing his boyfriend a questioning look.

"Well." Brendon continued, "Melanie's invited the whole of our year to a party 'cause she's been accepted in to medical school. We're gonna go."

Feeling dread crawl under his skin, scuttling over the entirety of his body, Frank shook his head -he could not deal with parties. "No-"

"Don't make me drag your ass there, Iero."

"I don't think he's kiddin'." Gerard pressed his lips in to a thin line, glancing between an excited Brendon and a scared Frank.

"Fuck." Frank groaned, raking his fingers through his fluffy caramel-coloured hair. "Don't make me go to another one of these things."

Last time they'd dared go to a party, it hadn't gone as smoothly as anyone would have liked. All drinks had been alcoholic, meaning Brendon had gotten very wasted, Ryan had been tipsy, and Frank had been close to passing out, unaware there'd been alcohol in the five cokes he'd downed.

He'd woken up on the floor beside a double bed, which had had someone sleeping in it. Then, like a huge truck intent on flattening him, the realisation had hit that he was pretty much naked, only a blanket draped over him, and that he'd had drunken sex with a girl he didn't really know.

Thankfully, that'd been his second time, so the mistake wasn't as tragic as losing his virginity at a party he didn't want to be at in the first place with a random stranger.

Basically, Frank didn't want anywhere near a repeat of last time, and preferred to play video games at home like a loner content with a bag of crisps for company.

"It'll be fun." Brendon grinned as he grabbed Frank's hands and started swinging them by their sides, earning an unimpressed glare. "C'mon."

"I doubt that." Frank scoffed, raising his eyebrows. "I don't even know who Melanie is."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes?"

Putting his chin on Frank's shoulder from behind, Ryan joined in. They'd trapped him now. He was surrounded by idiots who didn't understand that Frank wasn't one to party.

"You know you wanna." Ryan chuckled, poking Frank's cheek annoyingly, but he was adorable so Frank let him get away with it for a bit. "You know you wanna come."

Trying his best to ignore those two, Frank glanced at Gerard desperately for help. However, Mr Way was useless because he had this stupidly cute smile on his face as he bit his lip, arms folded across his chest, obviously amused.

"You only don't wanna go 'cause you don't know how to party." Brendon spoke up, receiving nothing but a deadpan glare. "You'll learn."

"Does anyone?"

"Hmm." He narrowed his eyes, turning around to look at Gerard, who was back to marking papers. "Do you, teach?"

"Hmm?" Furrowing his brows, Gerard happily abandoned his his work for the fifth time that afternoon. "Do I what?"

"Know how to party?"

A faint blush tinted his cheeks pink, and he chewed the end of his pen. "Uh. . . Yes?"

"See." Brendon beamed, putting a hand on his hip, the other batting Frank on the shoulder lightly. "Loosen up, Iero."

"I hate all of you, I swear."

-

"I am not wearing these!" Frank exclaimed, eyes wide as he gaped at his reflection in Brendon's full length bedroom mirror.

To say the least, Brendon's room was bright. Not bright as in the window was open so the setting sun could stream in, or in the sense that it was well lit. No, the room was bright because of the fairy lights, faded and almost pastel colours, the shiny objects dotted around the place and the millions of sequin or diamond coated things he had lying around. It was a sparkly room that screamed "queer" -in a good way.

"Yes, you so totally are." Brendon smirked, hopping up from his seat on the end of his bed to stride across the room and adjust the collar of the leather jacket Frank was currently borrowing.

The colour was black, and there were studs lining the shoulders, collar and pockets. It had a chain from the shoulder to the pocket too.

"This can stay." Frank reasoned because he loved leather jackets. "But the jeans can fuck right off."

"But you look hot." Ryan complimented, making Frank's whole face go bright red.

Snacking on strawberry laces, Ryan was lying on his stomach on Brendon's bed, kicking his feet in the air as he flicked between helping choose an outfit for Frank and playing mindless games on his phone.

"No, I don't. . ."

The jeans Brendon had forced Frank in to were very tight, like a second skin, and he could barely walk without cutting off the blood circulation to his feet. A little dramatic, whatever, but it literally felt like it. Needless to say, the jeans also left very little to the imagination.

"C'mon." Brendon grinned. He was sporting a tank top, a denim jacket that had sequins on it and skinny jeans. "You'll thank me later when you've found your make-out buddy."

"Oh, these jeans are magical are they?" He deadpanned, rolling his eyes so hard that they could hear it.

"Yes." He stated seriously.

"I'm not looking for a make-out buddy anyway."

"Why not, lover boy?" Ryan raised his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side innocently. "It'll take your mind off Mr Way."

Shaking his head, Frank flopped down on to Brendon's bed, suffocating as he face planted in to the pillow. "I can't even-"

-

Even though Ryan and Brendon teased Frank relentlessly about his crush on Mr Way, and the amount of times they'd told him to make a move regardless of their predicament was ridiculous, tonight they were trying to set Frank up with someone where their relationship wouldn't be illegal.

By eleven o'clock, Frank had already turned down a few girls and guys, much to his friend's dismay. Honestly, he wasn't looking for a quick fuck or mindless snogging, he just wanted to go home.

When they'd gotten there, Melanie had bounced over to greet them, wearing a short pink denim skirt, black fishnet tights, a pale blue crop top, and her hair was tied up in a messy bun, flower pins holding it together.

"I'm so glad you could come!" She'd greeted kindly, giving Brendon a quick kiss on the cheek, receiving confused looks from Frank and Ryan.

"Since when're these two so chummy?" Ryan had said quietly, leaning in so Frank could hear.

"No idea." Frank had muttered in reply.

Then, after squeezing through the crowded dance floor to reach the kitchen where they received alcohol tinted drinks in plastic cups, they retreated to a quieter corner of the huge house.

"I don't like this." Frank frowned, sniffing the drink he'd received to check that there was indeed alcohol in it.

"Don't drink it then." Brendon shrugged, taking a long sip of his own.

"No, I mean this whole thing." He gestured widely, glancing around to see only drunk teenagers, some dancing, some chatting, some making out sloppily against walls, and some smoking.

The music was way too loud, blasting some shitty song from the charts -probably Taylor Swift or Ariana Grande. Truthfully, Frank couldn't tell the difference anymore, they all sounded the same anyway.

-

Currently, Frank and Ryan were weaving through a sea of people in search of Brendon, who'd disappeared over half an hour ago. He'd been slurring his words already, so he was far from sober, and they wanted to make sure he hadn't passed out or somehow gotten hurt.

"Can we just get him and go?" Frank whined for the millionth time that night, chewing on the rim of his plastic cup, which was mostly empty by now. "It's already quarter to one. My parents are gonna kill me. Fuck."

"Tell 'em you crashed at my place."

"We have school tomorrow."

"We can ditch if you want." Ryan shrugged, managing to locate the kitchen again. "It ain't that big of a deal, I might have to take-"

Furrowing his brows, Frank tore his eyes away from the jukebox he'd been inspecting, and turned around to see why Ryan had suddenly stopped talking. "Ry-?"

He followed Ryan's stunned gaze to a not-so-great sight. Brendon was pushed against the kitchen counter, some other dude that was definitely not Ryan had his hands on Brendon's shoulders, and they were connected at the lips.

Brendon had his eyes wide open, hands on the dude's chest as he tried to shove him away. He was pretty out of it, but his mind still registered the fact that it wasn't his boyfriend he was kissing. "What're you-"

Then he blinked hard, a scared expression washing over his features once he noticed Ryan and Frank stood by the door, fucking fuming.

"What the fuck?" Ryan almost dropped his drink, but was tempted to throw it at Brendon, or the twat he'd been kissing.

"Ry-" Brendon brushed aside the unknown guy, starting to reach out a hand towards Ryan, but paused half way, hesitant.

"What, is this like a hobby?"

"No, I-"

Admittedly, Ryan should have let Brendon explain, however he was too angry, annoyed and felt incredibly stupid for allowing himself to believe Brendon could stick with just one guy, given his reputation as somewhat easy.

"Fuck off." Ryan slapped his hand away, shaking his head as he chucked his plastic cup haphazardly at the bin. "I don't even want to see you right now."

Lips parted, staring after Ryan until he disappeared in to the crowd, Brendon had to repeat the situation in his mind a few times to compute what just happened.

Luckily, Frank was still stood there, looking confused, torn and agitated, wondering which friend he should talk to.

"Iero." Brendon piped up, thankful he hadn't run off too.

Folding his arms across his chest, Frank tapped his foot like an annoyed parent. "Explain."

Obviously, it was too noisy to chat inside the house, so they stumbled outside in to Melanie's back garden, finding themselves stood by a small fountain, surrounded by flowers and lights that were planted in the ground.

"It wasn't what it looked like, I promise." Brendon started, running his hands down his face, exasperated.

"Said every movie character ever." Frank deadpanned.

Taking a deep breath, he groaned tiredly, "That was Dallon back there."

Staying silent, Frank gestured for him to continue.

"He was flirtin' 'n' shit, but I told him I was in a relationship and next thing I know, he fuckin' kisses me anyway. . . Does "no" not mean "no" anymore?"

"You need to tell Ryan that." Frank offered a small sad smile. "He'll understand."

Holding his head in his hands, Brendon sunk to the floor, resting back against the fountain. "He's pissed at me, I don't think he'll listen right now."

"Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow. You could call him in the morning when you're both sober."

"I fucked up so bad."

Kneeling down in front of Brendon, Frank sighed, "Dallon did, if it's as you say it is. He made the move."

"He did."

"And Ryan'll get that, I'm sure."

Brendon leaned against Frank's shoulder. "Thanks, Iero."

[Published 14 October 2020]


	8. Chapter 8

\---

"He wouldn't answer my calls." Brendon sighed through the phone. "So I went to his house."

"How'd it go? Did ya get to explain everything?" Frank asked, trying not to sound overly curious. Though he couldn't help it because they were his two best and only friends, meaning if they broke up over this, then it'd be extremely awkward, and he probably would have had to pick sides.

"Yeah, he did." Ryan answered for him, making Frank smile.

"You two okay?"

"You bet, Iero." He said in between bites of a chocolate bar. Honestly, Ryan knew he'd forgive Brendon because he cared immensely for him, and just needed to calm down after the initial shock. "He bought me daisies too."

"That's sweet, you're favourite." Frank chuckled as he pushed the huge heavy doors open to the art rooms. He was tired as fuck, almost breaking his jaw with how much he was yawning. Despite it nearing winter, he felt too hot, like he had a radiator shoved down his shirt. "You guys on your way?"

"Nope." Brendon laughed. "Sorry, mate, we're ditchin' for the day."

" _C'mon_ , it's Monday." He whined pathetically. "I can't survive Monday by myself."

"Who are you? Garfield?" Brendon teased mockingly. "You'll be fine. You've got Gerard anyway, I'm sure you guys'll survive together."

"Hmm." Frank hummed, knowing perfectly well some inappropriate comments from Brendon's dirty mouth were about to be unleashed.

"Maybe you'll finally be able to have some _alone time._ " He laughed. "Kiss him, get some action."

"Shut up, you horny weirdo." Frank rolled his eyes. He swore, sex and snogging was all those two ever talked about. "There are so many reasons why that's a stupid idea. I've got a small crush on him, so what? Doesn't mean I have to get in his pants twenty four seven."

"You don't have to, but admit it, it'd be more fun that way."

"This is stupid."

"Whatever, Iero." Brendon tutted. "You'll only regret it later."

"I'm hanging up now." He huffed childishly, earning a laugh from Brendon, who knew he'd won their little argument.

"See you later, Mr Positive."

Sliding his phone in his pocket, Frank let out a deep breath as he collapsed in to a chair at the back of the classroom, utterly exhausted despite not having done anything even mildly productive. He felt how the dreary weather looked outside -dismal. Everything was in greyscale too. Not to mention, the day could only get worse, seeing as he didn't have his friends here to shelter him from dickheads who didn't like him, but that was fine with Frank because he didn't particularly like them either.

Instead of trying to stay awake, he figured he'd have time to take a quick nap. Lessons didn't start for another forty minutes anyway, so it gave him an opportunity to attempt to gather some energy. Folding his arms on the table, he rested his head on them, almost instantly able to fall asleep.

However, the universe had different plans because the moment he began to drift off, the art room doors opened, followed by a dishevelled art teacher, his slightly heeled boots clicking on the hard floors.

"Good morning, Frankie." Gerard greeted cheerfully as he draped his jacket and satchel over the back of the desk chair. Then he took note of the student's drowsy demeanour, furrowing his brows with a small smile. "You awake over there?"

"Hmm." Frank groaned, reluctantly raising his head to look at Gerard, admittedly seeing double of him, but he blamed it on the weariness. "Barely."

"Late night?"

"Not really." Rubbing his eyes, he slowly rose to his feet, intending on collecting art supplies to carry on with some work. If Gerard was here, he didn't have a chance of sleeping. Surely, snoozing in school was frowned upon, or against the rules, or something, which Frank didn't think was fair.

Biting his lip, his concern grew as he watched Frank stumble oh-so-gracefully around the room, in pursuit of his art folder. "You don't look too good."

Cracking a meagre smile, Frank scoffed, "Thanks."

"No," Gerard sighed quietly, logging on to the computer. "I mean, you look ill. . . Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah." But he wasn't, he felt like actual shit. His eyesight wasn't very clear, he felt like deadweight, having to drag himself to even walk.

Before Frank caused himself an injury, being a clumsy person at the best of times, Gerard walked over and put a hand on his shoulder as he tried to meet his gaze. "I'll get your things for you, and you sit, okay?"

"Gee-" Frank was about to protest that he was completely one hundred percent alright, but a tidal wave of dizziness slapped him in the face, causing him to sway as he screwed his eyes shut. The longer he stood, the more his brain was intent on killing him with a headache.

"Frank-?"

Next thing he knew, he was falling. His brain cancelled out, unable to function, and he near enough fainted. However, he didn't hit the ground like a pancake because two arms wrapped around his waist, keeping him relatively steady as he was guided over to a seat.

Once he was sat upright, Gerard gently cupped Frank's face in his hands, trying to keep him awake for a little while longer. "Frank?"

"Hmm." He heard his voice through noisy static, annoyed he wasn't conscious enough to register the fact his crush's soft hand was touching his cheek. "'M fine."

Surprised that he had the audacity to lie right now, Gerard raised his eyebrows, pressing his lips in to a thin line. "No you're not." He sat down opposite him, aware that there'd be classes going on soon. "Can your parents take care of you if reception sends you home?"

Slowly shaking his head, regretting it moments later because it made him feel even more dizzy, Frank sighed, "My-my parents are at work."

"Oh." Chewing his cheek, he wondered what the hell he was going to do. "Would it be okay if you stayed here for the day, so I can keep an eye on ya? I can sort it out with your other teachers."

"I'm not gonna _die_." Frank chuckled, but his quiet laugh morphed in to a small coughing fit, only making his statement pretty redundant.

Scratching his fingers through his hair, Gerard sighed, "I know, but I wanna make sure you're okay. Is that such a crime?"

"Nah." He bit his lip, earning a slight blush from Gerard when he murmured, "It's sweet of you."

-

Surprisingly, Frank had been able to remain seated at the back of the classroom all day, supervised by Gerard while he did pieces of work from other classes, despite still having a banging headache threatening to split his skull open.

The rule was that students couldn't leave the school building during the day unless picked up by their parents or guardians, so Gerard felt bad that Frank wasn't allowed to go home and rest. He'd brought him water from the staff room to keep him hydrated though, and kept the noise of other students in the classroom at a minimal for his benefit.

By the time lunch had rolled around, Frank didn't think he could stand it any longer. There was actual sweat glistening on his forehead, and he was hunched over trying to shield his eyes from the bright lights and keep himself from slipping off the chair.

"Frank?" Gerard reappeared from the staff room, another glass of water in hand as he sat down beside him, even more worried than before.

"Hmm?" He mumbled, squinting over at Gerard, who was a mere smudge in his clouded vision.

"Is there anything else I can do for you? D'you need anything?"

Swallowing thickly, he rubbed his eyes, "Some sleep would be nice."

"I don't have a class next lesson, so I suppose you could." He pondered, offering a smile, setting the glass down on the table. "But sleepin' upright can't be too comfortable."

"D'you suggest the floor?" He chuckled faintly, raising his eyebrows.

"Not at all." Biting his lip nervously, he moved his seat so it was right beside Frank's, then held his arms out, gesturing for him to lean back in to his chest.

Well, that was the best possible realistic scenario he could've imagined. Letting out a content sigh, Frank shuffled around until he was comfortably leaning in to Gerard but also sitting in his own chair. He supposed actually sitting on his art teacher's lap would be a bit odd.

Wrapping his arms around him, he gently rested his chin on Frank's head, almost tempted to go to sleep himself. "This okay?"

Smiling to himself, Frank nodded, snuggling up to him even more, draping an arm over his waist.

Not that it had anything to do with falling asleep in Gerard's arms, but Frank slept entirely peacefully for the first time in ages. Though it seemed to be over in the blink of an eye.

Eventually, half past three rolled around, meaning they could go home and escape the hell that was disguised as the education system.

What seemed like only seconds later, he was being woken up, pulled back in to the real world, meaning he couldn't lie with Gerard any more.

"Frankie?"

Eyes slowly fluttering open, he groaned as he realised they were still in the classroom. He didn't want to move at all, his muscles were screaming at him to stay motionless, head and throat battling against each other to see which one could hurt him more. Everything ached.

"Mhm. What?" He let out a cross between a cough and a breath. Upon processing that Gerard would most likely want his personal space back, he added quietly, almost a whine, "No."

"No what?" He chuckled.

"I don't want to move."

"C'mon, you child." He slowly sat up straight, Frank's arm still around his waist, and gently moved Frank in to a position so he was sat up by himself. He kept a hand sort of hovering by his shoulder though, resting on the back of the chair.

Chewing his cheek, Gerard slowly reached over, tucking runaway strands of hair behind Frank's ear before placing a hand on his forehead. "You're hot."

Even though he was ill, he could still be a bit of a dick. "Why, thank you." Frank smirked despite feeling like his lungs were melting.

"I meant your temperature." Gerard rolled his eyes, then added hesitantly. "Though I don't _not_ mean it."

"What?" He beamed, raising his eyebrows as he straightened up a little, adamant that his illness could be cured by compliments from one Gerard Way. "You callin' me hot, sir?"

Mildly flustered, Gerard just shrugged.

"You're not so bad yourself." That made Gerard blush, making Frank's smirk grow wider. He held back a cough, then hunched over slightly as a new wave of nausea hit. "But I-I'm not even ill."

"Really?" He was stunned at this boy's stubbornness. "Your temperature says otherwise."

"So, what now? D'you feed me soup 'nd put me to bed?"

"No." Gerard smiled softly. "I give you a ride home."

-

Amazingly, thanks to Frank's shitty immune system, he somehow grew worse during the ride home. Conveniently, Gerard had driven his car to school so he didn't have to hang on to the back of a motorbike for dear life. He was curled up in the passengers seat, head against the cold window, grateful that Gerard had turned the air conditioning on to help cool him down.

Countless times a worried Gerard had asked, "You doin' okay?" and Frank simply nodded each time. It felt nice to have someone there for him.

Currently, Gerard was guiding Frank in to the house, making sure he didn't faint or trip over. He had his arm around Frank's waist, while Frank was leaning in to his chest, in the process of falling asleep.

"C'mon, Frankie." Gerard murmured, slowly moving his arm from his waist so Frank could settle down on the sofa, sitting with his knees to his chest, sinking in to the huge cushions. He grabbed a blanket that had been hanging over the back of a chair, and draped it over Frank, who smiled appreciatively.

Gerard offered an anxious smile, "Will you be okay on your own?"

"Yeah." He said, though was betrayed by his throat that decided now was the perfect time to launch in to a small coughing fit.

"Are you sure? 'Cause. . ."

Gazing at Gerard, interested on what the answer would be, Frank asked curiously, "What would you do if I wasn't?"

Biting his lip, he rocked back and forth a little on his heels as he clasped his hands behind his back nervously. "Stay with you . . ? Though I don't know when your parents get home 'nd I shouldn't really be here. . . You could call Brendon?"

Frank shook his head. "My parents aren't home for hours. Brendon's out with Ryan. . . Just. . . Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

A little taken aback, Gerard nodded slowly, "Yeah, okay. . . Do you want me to get you a drink or-?"

"Sit with me?" Frank pat the space beside him, smiling hopefully.

Even though he was pretty sure he'd get fired if someone were to see them like this, he tried not to care and focused on the fact Frank was his friend, then sat next to him, hugging his knees to his chest.

Taking full advantage of the situation, Frank sighed happily, leaning in to Gerard's side as he rested his head on his shoulder.

"Sleepy?" Gerard chuckled faintly.

"Hmm." He hummed, allowing his eyes to slip shut as he yawned.

Placing a kiss to the top of Frank's head, he whispered, "Sweet dreams."

-

Apparently, it'd been so comfortable that Gerard that fallen asleep too. Frank discovered this when he had woken up around ten minutes ago to find Gerard snoring quietly. He was also lying beneath him, which admittedly was unexpected but not hated.

Somehow, they'd shifted positions, so Frank was lying in between Gerard's legs, his head having been resting on his chest, and Gerard was flat out on the sofa, one arm draped over Frank's waist.

In case he disturbed him, Frank didn't dare move. He simply sighed contentedly, smiling as he gazed down at Gerard's peaceful expression and beautiful features that he usually didn't get to witness this close up. Long eyelashes, pointy nose, soft lips, which, truth be told, he kind of wanted to kiss. Honestly, if it wasn't so creepy and invasive, he would have placed a gentle kiss while he was sleeping, though when he thought about it, it was very wrong to do so. Instead, he cherished this rare moment of them just lying together in blissful silence.

Annoyingly, due to the position he was lying in, Frank's foot was starting to go going numb, so he shuffled around a bit to lie on his stomach instead of on his side, trying not to disturb Gerard.

Inevitably, he did. Gerard's eyelids fluttered, a groan escaping his lips before he took in a deep breath, moving his head slightly.

At first, Frank thought he'd woken him up, but he hadn't because he continued to snore quietly every so often.

Obviously, Frank thought Gerard was fucking adorable, however they'd both have to get up eventually as it was getting quite late.

Not really paying full attention to what he was doing, Frank began to trace his finger along Gerard's jaw line. He felt Gerard shiver a little, then his lip twitched as he slowly opened his eyes, beyond puzzled to see Frank looking down at him.

Blinking hard, he registered the fact Frank was lying on top of him. Furrowing his brows, he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

Moving his finger away from Gerard's jaw line, Frank smiled, caught a bit off guard, "Hey, you're awake."

"Hey." Hesitantly, he returned the smile. "What-what time is it?"

"Uhm." He noted the dark sky outside the window, then glanced at his watch. "Nearly nine."

"Nine?" Gerard repeated, tone hoarse and thick sigh sleep he hadn't totally woken up from yet - Frank may have found his slightly deeper tone of voice attractive.

"Yeah. . ." Suddenly, he remembered he was practically on top of him, and should probably get up sooner or later. He coughed awkwardly as he pushed himself off of Gerard's chest, shuffling back so he wasn't sat between his thighs and was nearer his feet.

"I should get going." Gerard sighed, rubbing his eyes as he swung his legs off the sofa, sitting on the edge as he rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't think I'd fall asleep too."

"It's okay." Frank offered a smile that morphed in to more of a smirk. "Not that I was watching you or anything, but you look adorable when you sleep."

Gerard let out a breathy laugh, glancing over at Frank as he raised his eyebrows. "Should I say thank you, or be a bit creeped out?"

Rolling his eyes, he playfully pushed Gerard's shoulder. "I said I wasn't watching you, you dumbass."

Gerard shrugged, "Either way, I'm flattered."

Aww. Frank grinned, then pressed his lips together, "I'm sorry I kept you here so long."

"It's fine. I. . . liked it." A blush tinted his cheeks and he looked away. "I just didn't know it'd be so late."

"Yeah, I'm hoggin' you. You better get home."

Frowning, he mumbled, "Yeah. . . I should."

Honestly, he didn't really want to go home, not exactly eager to return to his boyfriend, who would undoubtedly ask questions concerning his whereabouts for the past few hours.

Seeing as he didn't bring anything in to the house, satchel and jacket still in the car, he didn't have to collect anything on his walk to the front door, and stepped out on to the street before turning around to face Frank, who was leaning against the door frame.

"Thank you for taking care of me."

"No problem, Iero." He raked his fingers through his messy hair. "Stay at home for a few days until you're better, alright? I don't want you getting worse."

"I won't." Waving a hand dismissively, Frank scoffed. "I'm rarely ill, I'll be fine."

"Well, at least you've finally admitted you're ill." He cocked his head to the side.

Scowling a little, he just scoffed again. "Shush."

Shaking his head, Gerard gave a little wave as he went to walk towards the car. "Goodnight, Frankie."

"Night, sir."


End file.
